T 


BY  I.  T.  THURSTON 

Just  Girls 

"Do  Ye  the  Nexle  Thynge" 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

A  new  story  inspired  by  the  Eight  Weeks' 
Club  Movement  of  the  Y.W.C.  A.  It  is  a  cheery, 
healthy  story  of  the  sort  that  Mrs.  Thurston 
has  developed  a  peculiar  genius  for  writing. 
Girls  who  were  delighted  in  the  pages  of  the 
"The  Torch  Bearer"  will  find  added  pleasure 
here. 

The  Torch  Bearer 

A  Camp. Fire  Girls'  Story.  Illustrated, 
i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

The  author  of  "The  Bishop's  Shadow"  and 
"The  Scout  Master  of  Troop  5"  has  scored 
another  conspicuous  success  in  this  new  story 
of  girl  life.  She  shows  conclusively  that  she 
knows  how  to  reach  the  heart  of  a  girl  as  well 
as  that  of  a  boy. 

The  Scout  Master  of  Troop  5 

By  author  of  "  The  Bishop's  Shadow." 
Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $r.oo. 

"The  daily  life  of  the  city  boys  from  whom 
the  scouts  are  recruited  is  related,  and  the  suc- 
cession of  experiences  afterward  coming  de- 
lightfully to  them — country  hikes,  camp  life, 
exploring  expeditions,  and  the  finding  of  real 
hidden  treasure." — N.  Y.  Sun. 

The  Big  Brother  of  Sabin  Street 

Containing  the  story  of  Theodore 
Bryan  (The  Bishop's  Shadow).  Illus- 
trated, i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

"This  volume  is  the  sequel  to  the  Story 
of  Theodore  Bryan,  'The  Bishop's  Shadow,' 
which  came  into  prominence  as  a  classic 
among  boys'  books  and  was  written  to  supply 
the  urgent  demand  for  a  story  continuing  the 
account  of  Theodore's  work  among  the  boys." 
—  Western  Recorder, 

The  Bishop's  Shadow 

Illustrated,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

"A  captivating  story  of  dear  Phillips  Brooks 
and  a  little  street  gamin  of  Boston.  The  book 
sets  forth  the  almost  matchless  character  of 
the  Christlike  bishop  in  most  loving  and  lovely 
lines."—  The  Interior. 


The  Torch  Bearer 


THE 

TORCH   BEARER 

A  Camp   Fire  Girls'  Story 

BY 

I.   T.    THURSTON 

Author  of  "The  Bishop's  Shadow," 

"The  Scout  Master  of  Troop  5," 

Etc.,  Etc. 

ILLUSTRATED 


New  York         Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,   1913,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  N.  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  St.,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:   100   Princes   Street 


M.  N.  T. 


335673 


CONTENTS 


I.  The  Camp   in  the  Forest           .         .  n 

II.  Introducing  the  Problem          .         .  24 

III.  The  Camp  Coward  Dares          .         .  31 

IV.  The  Poor  Thing          ....  44 
V.  Wind  and  Weather    ....  65 

VI.     A  Water  Cure 77 

VII.     Honours  Won 88 

VIII.  Elizabeth  at  Home    ....  98 

IX.     Jim 119 

X.     Sadie  Page 137 

XI.  Boys  and  Old  Ladies         .         .         .  147 

XII.  Nancy  Rextrew           ....  155 

XIII.  A  Camp  Fire  Christmas      .        .         .  168 

XIV.  LlZETTE l8l 

XV.  An  Open   Door   for   Elizabeth         .  200 

XVI.  Camp   Fire   Girls   and  the  Flag      .  212 

XVII.     Sonia 220 

XVIII.  The  Torch  Uplifted          .         .         .  233 

XIX.  Clear  Shining  After  Darkness         .  243 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Torch  Bearer Frontispiece 

"  At  last  a  tiny  puff  of  smoke  arose  "  14 
"Soon  the  flames  began  to  blaze  and   crackle, 

filling  the  air  with  a  spicy  fragrance  "  .  20 
A  group  of  girls  busy  over  bead-work  .  .  34 
"We  pull  long,  we  pull  strong"  ...  78 
"Wood  had  been  gathered  earlier  in  the  day  "  .  90 
A  favourite  rendezvous  at  the  camp  .  .  .  212 
"  Just  think  of  the  Lookout  at  this  very  min- 
ute!"       220 


I 

THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST 

"X  X  T  OHELO— wohelo— wo-/i<?-lo !  " 

\/Y/  The  clear,  musical  call,  rising  from  the 

green  tangle  of  the  forest  that  fringed  the 
bay,  seemed  to  float  lingeringly  above  the  treetops  and 
out  over  the  wide  stretch  of  gleaming  water,  to  a  girl 
in  a  green  canoe,  who  listened  intently  until  the  last 
faint  echo  died  away,  then  began  paddling  rapidly  to- 
wards the  wooded  slope.  The  sun,  just  dropping  below 
the  horizon,  flooded  the  western  sky  with  a  blaze  of 
colour  that  turned  the  wide  waters  into  a  sea  of  gold, 
through  which  the  little  craft  glided  swiftly,  scattering 
from  its  slender  prow  showers  of  shining  drops. 

"  I'm  going  to  find  out  what  that  means,"  the  girl 
said  under  her  breath.  "  It  sounds  like  an  Indian  call, 
but  I'm  sure  those  were  not  Indian  voices." 

On  and  on,  steadily,  swiftly,  swept  the  green  canoe, 
until,  rounding  a  wooded  point,  it  slipped  suddenly  into 
a  beautiful  little  cove  where  there  was  a  floating  dock 
with  a  small  fleet  of  canoes  and  rowboats  surrounding 
it,  and  steps  leading  up  the  slope.  The  girl  smiled  as 
she  stepped  lightly  out  on  the  dock,  and  fastened  her 
canoe  to  one  of  the  rings. 

"  A  girls'  camp  it  surely  is,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  I'm  going  to  get  a  glimpse  of  it  anyhow." 

Running  up  the  steps,  she  followed  a  well-trodden 
path  through  a  pine  grove,  and  in  a  few  minutes, 

11 


12  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

through  the  trees,  she  caught  the  gleam  of  white  tents 
and  stopped  to  leconnc litre.  A  dozen  or  more  tents 
were  set  irregularly  around  an  open  space;  also  there 
was  -a  large  frame  building  with  canvas  instead  of 
boarding  on  two  sides,  and  adjoining  this  a  small  frame 
shack,  evidently  a  kitchen — and  girls  were  everywhere. 

"  O,  I'm  hungry  for  girls !  "  breathed  the  one  peer- 
ing through  the  green  branches.  "  I  wonder  if  I  dare 
venture "  She  broke  off  abruptly,  staring  in  sur- 
prise at  a  group  approaching  her.  Then  she  ran  for- 
ward crying  out,  "  Why,  Anne  Wentworth — to  think 
of  finding  you  here !  " 

"  To  think  of  finding  you  here,  Laura  Haven ! 
Where  did  you  drop  from  ?  "  cried  the  other.  The 
two  were  holding  each  other's  hands  and  looking  into 
each  other's  faces  with  eyes  full  of  glad  surprise. 

"  I  ?  I  didn't  drop — I  climbed — up  the  steps  from 
the  landing,"  Laura  laughed.  "  I  was  out  on  the  bay 
in  my  canoe — we  came  up  yesterday  in  the  yacht — 
and  I  heard  that  beautiful  Indian  call,  and  I  just  had 
to  find  out  where  it  came  from,  and  what  it  meant.  I 
suspected  a  girls'  camp,  but  of  course  I  never  dreamed 
of  finding  you  here.  Do  tell  me  all  about  it.  It  is 
a  camp,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  we  are  Camp  Fire  Girls,"  Anne  Wentworth 
replied.  She  glanced  behind  her,  but  the  others  had  dis- 
appeared. "  They  vanished  for  fear  they  might  be  in 
the  way,"  she  said.  "  O  Laura,  I'm  so  glad  you're 
here,  for  this  is  the  night  for  our  Council  Fire.  You 
can  stay  to  it,  can't  you — I'm  sure  you  would  be  in- 
terested." 

"  Stay — how  long?     It's  after  sunset  now." 

"  O,  stay  all  night  with  me,  and  all  day  to-morrow. 


THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST  13 

You  must  stay  to  the  Council  Fire  to-night,  any- 
how." 

"  I'd  love  to  dearly,  but  father  won't  know  where 
I  am."    Laura's  voice  was  full  of  regret. 

"  Why  can't  you  go  back  and  tell  him  ?  I'll  go  with 
you,"  Anne  suggested. 

"  Will  there  be  time  before  your  Council  Fire?  " 

"  Yes,  if  we  hurry — wait  one  minute."  Anne  called 
to  the  nearest  girl,  gave  her  a  brief  message,  and 
turned  again  to  her  friend.  "  Come  on,  we've  no  time 
to  lose,  but  I  know  how  you  can  make  a  canoe  fly," 
she  said,  and  hand-in-hand  the  two  went  scurrying 
through  the  grove  and  down  to  the  landing.  Then 
while  the  canoe  swept  swiftly  over  the  water,  Anne 
Wentworth  answered  the  eager  questions  of  her 
friend. 

"It's  a  new  organisation — the  Camp  Fire  Girls," 
she  explained.  "  It  is  something  like  the  Boy  Scouts 
only,  I  think,  planned  on  broader  lines  and  with 
higher  and  finer  ideals — at  any  rate  it  is  better  suited 
for  girls.  It  aims  to  help  them  to  be  healthy,  useful, 
trustworthy,  and  happy.  Health — work — love — as 
shown  in  service — these  are  the  ideals  on  which  we 
try  to  build.  We  have  three  grades.  First  a  girl  be- 
comes a  Wood  Gatherer;  then  after  passing  certain 
tests,  a  Fire  Maker,  then  a  Torch  Bearer." 

"  And  which  are  you  ?  "  Laura  asked. 

"  I'm  a  Guardian — that  is,  I  am  the  head  of  one 
of  our  city  Camp  Fires.-  Mrs.  Royall  is  our  Chief 
Guardian."  She  went  on  to  explain  about  the  work 
and  play,  the  tests  and  rewards,  ending  with,  "  But 
you'll  understand  it  all  so  much  better  after  our 
Council  Fire  to-night." 


14.  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Laura  nodded.  "  What  kind  of  girls  is  it  for— poor 
girls — working  girls  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  for  any  kind  of  girls— just  girls,  you  know. 
Of  course  we  can't  admit  any  bad  ones,  nothing  else 
matters.  Dorothy  Groves  is  one  of  my  twelve,  and 
I've  two  dear  little  High  School  girls ;  all  the  rest  are 
working  girls.  They  can  stay  here  at  the  camp  only 
two  weeks — some  of  them  only  ten  days — the  working 
girls,  I  mean,  and  it  would  make  your  heart  ache  to 
see  how  much  those  ten  days  mean  to  them,  and  how 
intensely  they  enjoy  even  the  commonest  pleasures  of 
camping  out." 

"  Who  pays  for  them  ?  "  Laura  demanded. 

"  They  pay  for  themselves.  It's  no  charity,  and  the 
charges  are  very  low.  They  wouldn't  come  if  it  were 
charity." 

Laura  shook  her  head  half  impatiently.  "It's  so 
hard  to  get  a  chance  really  to  help  the  ones  who  need 
help  most,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  it  surely  is,"  Anne  agreed;  and  then  they 
were  alongside  the  big  white  yacht  with  its  shining 
brass,  and  Judge  Haven  was  helping  them  up  the 
steps. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  they  were  on  their  way  back 
to  the  camp,  but  this  time  in  a  boat  rowed  by  two  of 
the  crew.  The  last  golden  gleam  of  the  afterglow  was 
fading  slowly  in  the  West  as  the  two  girls  came  again 
through  the  pines  into  the  open  space  between  the 
tents.  Mrs.  Royall  met  them  and  made  Laura  cor- 
dially welcome. 

"  She's  just  the  right  one — a  real  camp  mother," 
Anne  said,  as  she  led  her  friend  over  to  a  group 
gathered  on  the  grass  before  one  of  the  tents.    "  And 


THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST  15 

these  are  my  own  girls,"  she  added,  introducing  each 
by  name. 

"  You've  got  to  take  me  right  in,"  Laura  told  them. 
"  I  can't  help  it  if  I  am  an  odd  number — I'm  going  to 
belong  to  this  particular  Camp  Fire  to-night." 

"  Of  course  we'll  take  you  in,  and  love  to.  Aren't 
you  Miss  Anne's  friend  ? "  said  one,  as  she  snuggled 
down  on  the  grass  beside  Laura.  "  It's  so  nice  you 
came  on  our  Council  Fire  night !  " 

Laura's  eyes  swept  the  group.  "  It  must  be  nice — 
you  all  look  so  happy,"  she  answered. 

Anne  Wentworth  excused  herself  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  Laura  settled  back  against  a  tree  with  a  little 
sigh  of  content.  "  I've  been  abroad  for  a  year,"  she 
said,  "  and  it  seems  so  good  to  be  with  girls  again — 
American  girls!  Please,  won't  you  forget  that  I  am 
here  and  talk  just  as  if  I  were  not?  I  want  to  sit  still 
and  enjoy  the  place  and  you  and — everything,  for  a 
bit,  before  your  Council  begins." 

With  ready  courtesy  they  took  her  at  her  word,  and 
chatted  of  camp  plans  and  happenings  until  the  talk 
was  interrupted  by  a  clear  musical  call  that  floated 
softly  out  of  the  gathering  dusk. 

"  How  beautiful!  What  is  it?"  Laura  asked  as  all 
the  girls  started  up. 

"  It's  the  bugle  call  to  the  Council,"  one  explained, 
"  and  here  comes  Miss  Anne." 

Laura  glanced  curiously  at  her  friend's  dress.  It 
was  a  long  loose  garment  of  dark  brown,  fringed  at 
the  bottom  and  the  sleeves.  A  band  of  beadwork  was 
fastened  over  her  forehead,  and  she  wore  a  long  neck- 
lace of  bright-coloured  beads. 

"  What  is  it — a  robe  of  state  ?  "  Laura  inquired. 


16  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Yes,  the  ceremonial  dress,"  Anne  told  her,  "  but 
you  can't  see  in  this  light  how  pretty  it  is.  Come  on, 
we  must  join  the  procession." 

"What  has  become  of  your  girls?"  Laura  asked. 
"  They  were  here  a  moment  ago." 

"  They  have  gone  to  get  their  necklaces,"  Anne  re- 
turned. "  My  girls  are  all  Wood  Gatherers  as  yet — ■ 
we've  not  been  organised  long,  you  know ;  but  they've 
been  working  hard  for  honours,  and  for  every  honour 
they  are  entitled  to  add  a  bead  to  their  necklaces." 

"  Yours  then  must  represent  a  great  many  honours." 

"  Yes,"  Anne  replied.  "  You  see  it  incites  the  girls 
to  work  for  honours  when  they  see  that  their  Guard- 
ians have  worked  and  won  them.  The  red  beads 
show  that  the  wearer  has  won  health  honours  by 
keeping  free  from  colds,  headaches,  etc.,  for  a  number 
of  months,  or  by  sleeping  out  of  doors,  or  doing  some 
sort  of  athletics — walking,  swimming,  rowing,  and  the 
like.  The  blue  ones  are  for  nature  study,  the  black 
and  gold  for  business,  and  so  on.  Each  bead  has  a 
meaning  for  the  girl — it  tells  a  story — and  the  more 
she  wins,  the  finer  her  record,  of  course." 

"  What  a  splendid  idea !  And  how  the  girls  will 
prize  their  necklaces  by-and-by,  and  enjoy  recalling 
the  stories  connected  with  them !  " 

"  Yes,"  Anne  agreed,  "  they  will  hand  them  down 

to  their  daughters  as  a  new  kind  of  heirloom,  but " 

with  a  laugh  she  added,  "  that's  looking  a  long  way 
ahead,  isn't  it?  " 

By  this  time  the  two  were  in  the  midst  of  a  merry 
procession  of  girls  from  twelve  to  twenty,  perhaps  a 
third  of  them  wearing  the  ceremonial  dress. 

"  What   a   gay   company   they   are ! "   Laura   com- 


THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST  17 

merited,  as  the  procession  followed  a  winding  path 
through  the  woods,  a  few  carrying  lanterns.  "  Is 
there  anything  in  the  world,  Anne,  lovelier  than  a 
crowd  of  happy  girls?" 

"  Nothing,"  her  friend  assented  in  a  low  tone. 
"  And,  Laura,  if  you  could  only  see  the  difference  a 
few  days  here  make  in  some  of  the  girls  who  have 
had  all  work  and  no  play — like  some  of  mine !  It  is 
so  delightful  to  see  them  grow  merry  and  glad  day 
by  day.  But  here  we  are.  This  is  our  Council  Cham- 
ber." 

"  I  want  as  many  eyes  as  a  spider  so  that  I  can 
look  every  way  at  once,"  Laura  cried  as  the  girls  ar- 
ranged themselves  in  a  large  circle.  "  What  are  those 
girls  over  there  doing?" 

"  They  are  the  Fire  Makers.  They  were  Wood 
Gatherers  for  over  three  months,  and  have  met  the 
requirements  for  the  second  class.  Some  of  the 
others  are  to  be  made  Fire  Makers  to-night.  Watch 
Mary  Walsh — the  one  rubbing  two  sticks.  She  will 
make  fire  without  matches— or  at  least  she  will  try  to." 

The  girl,  with  one  knee  on  the  ground,  was  rubbing 
one  stick  briskly  back  and  forth  in  the  groove  of  an- 
other. A  little  group  beside  her  watched  her  with 
eager  interest,  two  of  them  holding  lanterns,  and  Mrs. 
Royall  stood  near  her,  watch  in  hand.  The  talk 
and  laughter  had  ceased  as  the  circle  formed,  and  now 
in  silence,  all  eyes  were  centred  on  the  girl.  Faster 
and  faster  her  hands  moved  to  the  accompaniment  of 
a  whining,  scraping  sound  that  rose  at  intervals  to  a 
shrill  squeak.  At  last  a  tiny  puff  of  smoke  arose, 
and  the  girl  blew  carefully  until  she  had  a  glowing 
spark,  which  she  fed  with  tiny  shreds  of  wood,  until 


18  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

suddenly  it  blazed  up  brightly.  Then,  springing 
lightly  to  her  feet,  she  stood  erect,  the  flaming  wood 
in  her  outstretched  hand  distinctly  revealing  her  happy, 
triumphant  face  against  the  dark  background  of  the 
pines. 

There  was  a  quick  clamour  of  applause  as  Mrs. 
Royall  announced,  "  Thirty  seconds  within  the  time 
limit,  Mary.  Well  done!  Now  light  the  Council 
Fire." 

The  girl  stepped  forward  and  touched  her  flaming 
brand  to  the  wood  that  had  been  made  ready  by  the 
other  Fire  Makers,  and  soon  the  flames  began  to  blaze 
and  crackle,  filling  the  air  with  a  spicy  fragrance,  and 
sending  a  vivid  glow  across  the  circle  of  intent  young 
faces.  Laura  caught  her  breath  as  she  looked  around 
the  circle. 

"  What  a  picture !  "  she  whispered.  "  It  is  lovely — 
lovely !  " 

At  a  signal  from  Mrs.  Royall  the  girls  now  gathered 
closer  about  the  fire  and  began  to  chant  all  together, 

" '  Wohelo — wohelo — wohelo. 
Wohelo  means  love. 

We  love  love,  for  love  is  the  heart  of  life. 
It  is  light  and  joy  and  sweetness, 
Comradeship  and  all  dear  kinship. 
Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep 
That  self  is  forgotten. 
Wohelo  means  love.'" 

Then  louder  swelled  the  chorus, 


'"Wohelo  for  aye, 
Wohelo  for  aye, 
Wohelo,  wohelo,  wohelo  for  aye. 


THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST  19 

The  last  note  was  followed  by  a  moment  of  utter 
silence;  then  one  side  of  the  circle  chanted, 

"Wohelo  for  work!*" 
and  the  opposite  side  flung  back, 

•"Wohelo  for  health!"' 
and  all  together  they  chorused  exultantly, 
"■ Wohelo,  wohelo,  wohelo  for  love!'" 

Then  in  unison,  led  by  Anne  Wentworth,  the  beau- 
tiful Fire  Ode  was  repeated, 

"'O  Fire! 

Long  years  ago  when  our  fathers  fought  with  great 

animals  you  were  their  great  protection. 
When  they  fought  the  cold  of  the  cruel  winter  you 

saved  them. 
When  they  needed  food  you  changed  the  flesh  of  beasts 

into  savoury  meat  for  them. 
During  all  the  ages  your  mysterious  flame  has  been 

a  symbol  to  them  for  Spirit. 
So,  to-night,  we  light  our  fire  in  grateful  remembrance 

of  the  Great  Spirit  who  gave  you  to  us.'" 

In  a  few  clear-cut  sentences  Mrs.  Royall  spoke  of 
the  Camp  Fire  symbolism — of  fire  as  the  living,  renew- 
ing, all-pervading  element — "  Our  brother  the  fire, 
bright  and  pleasant,  and  very  mighty  and  strong,"  as 
being  the  underlying  spirit — the  heart  of  this  new  or- 
der of  the  girls  of  America,  as  the  hearth-fire  is  the 
heart  of  the  home.  She  spoke  of  the  brown  chevron 
with   the   crossed   sticks,   the   symbol   of   the   Wood 


20  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Gatherer,  the  blue  and  orange  symbol  of  the  Fire 
Maker,  and  the  complete  insignia  combining  both  of 
these  with  the  touch  of  white  representing  smoke  from 
the  flame,  worn  by  the  Torch  Bearer,  trying  to  make 
clear  and  vivid  the  beautiful  meaning  of  it  all. 

When  the  roll-call  was  read,  each  girl,  as  she  an- 
swered to  her  name,  gave  also  the  number  of  honours 
she  had  earned  since  the  last  meeting.  It  was  then 
that  Laura,  watching  the  absorbed  faces,  shook  her 
head  with  a  sigh  as  her  eyes  met  Anne's;  and  Anne 
nodded  with  quick  understanding. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  "  there  is  some  rivalry.  It 
isn't  all  love  and  harmony — yet.  But  we  are  working 
that  way  all  the  time." 

There  was  a  report  of  the  last  Council,  written  in 
rather  limping  rhyme,  and  then  each  girl  told  of  some 
kind  or  gentle  deed  she  had  seen  or  heard  of  since  the 
last  meeting — things  ranging  all  the  way  from  hunting 
for  a  lost  glove  to  going  for  the  doctor  at  midnight 
when  a  girl  was  taken  suddenly  ill  in  camp.  Only 
one  had  no  kindness  to  tell.  And  when  she  reported 
"  Nothing  "  it  was  as  if  a  shadow  fell  for  a  moment 
over  all  the  young  faces  turned  towards  her. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  Her  voice  sounds  so  unhappy !  " 
Laura  said,  and  her  friend  answered,  "  I'll  tell  you 
about  her  afterwards.  Her  name  is  Olga  Priest. 
There's  a  new  member  to  be  received  to-night.  Here 
she  comes." 

Laura  watched  the  new  member  as  she  stepped 
out  of  the  circle,  and  crossed  over  to  the  Chief 
Guardian. 

"  What  is  your  desire  ?  "  Mrs.  Royall  asked,  and  the 
girl  answered, 


THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST  21 

"  I  desire  to  become  a  Camp  Fire  Girl  and  to  obey 
the  law  of  the  Camp  Fire,  which  is  to 

"'Seek  beauty, 
Give  service, 
Pursue  knowledge, 
Hold  on  to  health, 
Glorify  work, 
Be  happy.' 

This  law  of  the  Camp  Fire  I  will  strive  to  follow." 

Slowly  and  impressively,  Mrs.  Royall  explained  to 
her  the  law,  phrase  by  phrase,  and  as  she  ceased 
speaking,  the  candidate  repeated  her  promise  to  keep 
it,  and  instantly  every  girl  in  the  circle,  placing  her 
right  hand  over  her  heart,  chanted  slowly, 

"'This  law  of  the  fire  I  will  strive  to  follow 

With  all  the  strength  and  endurance  of  my  body, 

The  power  of  my  will, 

The  keenness  of  my  mind, 

The  warmth  of  my  heart, 

And  the  sincerity  of  my  spirit."' 

And  again  after  the  last  words — like  a  full  stop  in 
music — came  the  few  seconds  of  utter  silence. 

It  was  broken  by  the  Chief  Guardian.  "  With  this 
sign  you  become  a  Wood  Gatherer,"  and  she  laid  the 
fingers  of  her  right  hand  across  those  of  her  left.  The 
candidate  made  the  same  sign ;  then  she  held  out  her 
hand,  and  Mrs.  Royall  slipped  on  her  finger  the  silver 
ring,  which  all  Camp  Fire  Girls  are  entitled  to  wear, 
and  as  she  did  so  she  said, 

'"As  fagots  are  brought  from  the  forest 
Firmly  held  by  the  sinews  which  bind  them. 
So  cleave  to  these  others,  j'our  sisters, 
Whenever,  wherever  you  find  them. 


22  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Be  strong  as  the  fagots  are  sturdy ; 
Be  pure  in  your  deepest  desire : 
Be  true  to  the  truth  that  is  in  you; 
And— follow  the  law  of  the  fire.'" 

The  girl  returned  to  her  place  in  the  circle,  and  at 
a  sign  from  Anne  Wentworth,  four  of  her  girls  fol- 
lowed her  as  she  moved  forward  and  stood  before 
Mrs.  Royall.  From  a  paper  in  her  hand  she  read  the 
names  of  the  four  girls,  and  declared  that  they  had  all 
met  the  tests  for  the  second  grade. 

The  Chief  Guardian  turned  to  the  four. 

"  What  is  your  desire  ? "  she  asked,  and  together 
they  repeated, 

•"As  fuel  is  brought  to  the  fire 
So  I  purpose  to  bring 
My  strength, 
My  ambition, 
My  heart's  desire, 
My  joy, 

And  my  sorrow 
To  the  fire 
Of  humankind. 
For  I  will  tend 
As  my  fathers  have  tended, 
And  my  father's  fathers 
Since  time  began, 
The  fire  that  is  called 
The  love  of  man  for  man, 
The  love  of  man  for  God.'" 

As  the  young  earnest  voices  repeated  the  beautiful 
words,  Laura  Haven's  heart  thrilled  again  with  the 
solemn  beauty  of  it  all,  and  tears  crowded  to  her  eyes 
in  the  silence  that  followed — a  silence  broken  only 
by  the  whispering  of  the  night  wind  high  in  the  tree- 
tops. 


THE  CAMP  IN  THE  FOREST  23 

Then  Mrs.  Royall  lifted  her  hand  and  soft  and  low 
the  young  voices  chanted, 

"'Lay  me  to  sleep  in  sheltering  flame, 
O  Master  of  the  Hidden  Fire; 
Wash  pure  my  heart,  and  cleanse  for  me 
My  soul's  desire. 

In  flame  of  service  bathe  my  mind, 
O  Master  of  the  Hidden  Fire, 
That  when  I  wake  clear-eyed  may  be 
My  soul's  desire.'" 

It  was  over,  and  the  circle  broke  again  into  laugh- 
ing, chattering  groups.  Lanterns  were  lighted,  every 
spark  of  the  Council  Fire  carefully  extinguished,  and 
then  back  through  the  woods  the  procession  wound, 
laughing,  talking,  sometimes  breaking  into  snatches  of 
song,  the  lanterns  throwing  strange  wavering  patches 
of  light  into  the  dense  darkness  of  the  woods  on  either 
side. 


II 

INTRODUCING  THE  PROBLEM 

«"^T"OU  did  enjoy  it,  didn't  you?"  Anne  said  as 

\      the    two   walked    back    through    the    woods- 
-"-     path  to  camp. 

"  I  loved  every  bit  of  it,"  was  the  enthusiastic  re- 
sponse. "  It's  so  different  from  anything  else — so 
fresh  and  picturesque  and  full  of  interest!  I  should 
think  girls  would  be  wild  to  belong." 

"  They  are.  Camp  Fires  are  being  organised  all  over 
the  country.  The  trouble  is  that  there  are  not  yet 
enough  older  girls  trained  for  Guardians." 

"  Where  can  they  get  the  training?  " 

"  In  New  York  there  is  a  regular  training  class,  and 
there  will  soon  be  others  in  other  cities,"  Anne  re- 
turned, and  then,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  believe  you've 
caught  the  fever  already,  Laura." 

"  I  have — hard.  You  know,  Anne,  all  the  time  we 
were  abroad  I  was  trying  to  decide  what  kind  of  work 
I  could  take  up,  among  girls,  and  this  appeals  to  me 
as  nothing  else  has  done.  It  seems  to  me  there  are 
great  possibilities  in  it.  I'd  like  to  be  a  Guardian.  Do 
you  think  I'm  fit?  " 

"  Of  course  you're  fit,  dear.  O  Laura,  I'm  so  glad. 
We  can  work  together  when  we  go  home." 

"  But,  Anne,  I  want  to  stay  right  here  in  this  camp 
now.  Do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Royall  will  be  willing? 
Of  course  I'll  pay  anything  she  says——" 

24 


INTRODUCING  THE  PROBLEM  25 

"  She'll  be  delighted.  She  needs  more  helpers,  and 
I  can  teach  you  all  I  learned  before  I  took  charge  of 
my  girls.    But  will  your  father  be  willing?" 

"  I'm  sure  he  will.  He  knows  you,  and  everybody 
in  Washington  knows  and  honours  Mrs.  Royall. 
Father  is  going  to  Alaska  on  a  business  trip  and  I've 
been  trying  to  decide  where  I  would  stay  while  he  is 
gone.     This  will  solve  my  problem  beautifully." 

"  Come  then — we'll  see  Mrs.  Royall  right  now  and 
arrange  it,"  Anne  returned,  turning  back. 

Mrs.  Royall  was  more  than  willing  to  accede  to 
Laura's  proposal.  "  Stay  at  the  camp  as  long  as  you 
like,"  she  said,  "  and  if  you  really  want  to  be  a 
Guardian,  I  will  send  your  name  to  the  Board  which 
has  the  appointing  power." 

"  She  is  lovely,  isn't  she  ?  "  Laura  said  as  they  left 
the  Chief  Guardian.  "  I  don't  wonder  you  call  her 
the  Camp  Mother." 

Something  in  the  tone  reminded  Anne  that  her 
friend  had  long  been  motherless,  and  she  slipped  her 
arm  affectionately  around  Laura's  waist  as  she  an- 
swered, "  She  is  the  most  motherly  woman  I  ever  met. 
She  seems  to  have  room  in  her  big,  warm  heart  for 
every  girl  that  wants  mothering,  no  matter  who  or 
what  she  is."  They  were  back  at  the  camp  now,  and 
she  added,  "  But  we  must  get  to  bed  quickly — there's 
the  curfew,"  as  a  bugle  sounded  a  few  clear  notes. 

"  O  dear,  I've  a  hundred  and  one  questions  to  ask 
you,"  sighed  Laura. 

"  They'll  keep  till  morning,"  replied  the  other.  "  It's 
so  hard  for  the  girls  to  stop  chattering  after  the  cur- 
few sounds !  We  Guardians  have  to  set  them  a  good 
example." 


26  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

The  cots  in  the  sleeping  tents  were  placed  on 
wooden  platforms  raised  three  or  four  inches  from 
the  ground,  and  on  clear  nights  the  sides  of  the  tents 
were  rolled  up.  Laura,  too  interested  and  excited  to 
sleep  at  once,  lay  in  her  cot  looking  out  across  the 
open  space  now  flooded  with  light  from  the  late-risen 
moon,  and  thought  of  the  girls  sleeping  around  her. 
Herself  an  only  child,  she  had  a  great  desire — almost 
a  passion — for  girls;  girls  who  were  lonely  like  her- 
self— girls  who  had  to  struggle  with  ill-health,  poverty, 
and  hard  work  as  she  did  not. 

Suddenly  she  started  up  in  bed,  her  eyes  wide 
with  half-startled  surprise.  Reaching  over  to  the  ad- 
joining cot,  she  touched  her  friend,  whispering,  "  Anne, 
Anne,  look !  "  and  as  Anne  opened  drowsy  eyes, 
Laura  pointed  to  the  moonlit  space. 

Anne  stared  for  a  moment,  then  she  laughed  softly 
and  whispered  back,  "  It's  a  ghost  dance,  Laura. 
Some  of  those  irrepressible  girls  couldn't  resist  this 
moonlight.     They're  doing  an  Indian  folk  dance." 

"  Isn't  it  weird — in  the  moonlight  and  in  utter  si- 
lence !  "  Laura  said  under  her  breath.  "  I  should  think 
somebody  would  giggle  and  spoil  the  effect." 

"  That  would  be  a  signal  for  Mrs.  Royall  to  '  dis- 
cover '  them  and  send  them  back  to  bed,"  Anne  re- 
turned. "  So  long  as  they  do  it  in  utter  silence  so  as 
to  disturb  no  one  else,  the  Guardians  wink  at  it.  It 
is  pretty,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Lovely !  " 

Anne  turned  over  and  went  to  sleep  again,  but 
Laura  watched  the  slender  graceful  figures  in  their 
loose  white  garments  till  suddenly  they  melted  into  the 
shadows  and  were  gone.     Then  she  too  slept  till  a 


INTRODUCING  THE  PROBLEM  27 

shaft  of  sunlight,  touching  her  eyelids,  awakened  her 
to  a  new  day.  She  looked  across  at  her  friend,  who 
smiled  back  at  her.  "  I  feel  so  well  and  so  happy !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  It  is  sleeping  in  the  open  air,"  Anne  replied.  "  Al- 
most everybody  wakes  happy  here — except  the  Prob- 
lem." 

"  The  Problem  ?  "  Laura  echoed. 

"  I  mean  Olga  Priest,  the  girl  you  asked  about  last 
night.  We  Guardians  call  her  the  Problem  because 
no  one  has  yet  been  able  to  do  anything  for  her." 

"Tell  me  about  her,"  Laura  begged,  as,  dropping 
the  sides  of  the  tent,  Anne  began  to  dress. 

"  Wait  till  we  are  outside — there  are  too  many 
sharp  young  ears  about  us  here,"  Anne  cautioned. 
"  There'll  be  time  for  a  walk  or  a  row  before  break- 
fast and  we  can  talk  then." 

"  Good — let's  have  a  walk,"  Laura  said,  and  made 
quick  work  of  her  dressing. 

"  Now  tell  me  about  the  Problem,"  she  urged,  when 
they  were  seated  on  a  rocky  point  overlooking  the  blue 
waters  of  the  bay. 

"  Poor  Olga,"  Anne  said.  "  I  wonder  sometimes  if 
she  has  ever  had  a  really  happy  day  in  the  eighteen 
years  of  her  life.  Her  mother  was  a  Russian  of  good 
family  and  well  educated.  She  married  an  American 
who  made  life  bitter  for  her  until  he  drank  himself  to 
death.  There  were  three  children  older  than  Olga — 
two  sons  who  went  to  the  bad,  following  their  father's 
example.  The  older  girl  married  a  worthless  fellow 
and  disappeared,  and  there  was  no  one  left  but  Olga 
to  support  the  sick  mother  and  herself,  and  Olga  was 
only  thirteen  then!     She  supported  them,  somehow, 


28  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

but  of  course  she  had  to  leave  her  mother  alone  all 
day,  and  one  night  when  she  went  home  she  found  her 
gone.    She  had  died  all  alone." 

"01"  cried  Laura. 

"  Yes,  it  was  pitiful.  I  suppose  the  child  was 
as  nearly  heartbroken  as  any  one  could  be,  for  her 
mother  was  everything  to  her.  Of  course  there  were 
many  who  would  have  been  glad  to  help  had  they 
known,  but  Olga's  pride  is  something  terrible,  and  it 
seems  as  if  she  hates  everybody  because  her  father  and 
her  brothers  and  sister  neglected  her  mother,  and  she 
was  left  to  die  alone.  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  single 
person  in  the  world  whom  she  likes  even  a  little." 

"  O,  the  poor  thing!"  sighed  Laura.  "Not  even 
Mrs.  Royall?" 

"  No,  not  even  Mrs.  Royall,  who  has  been  heavenly 
kind  to  her." 

"  Is  she  in  your  Camp  Fire  ?  " 

"  No,  Ellen  Grandis  is  her  Guardian,  but  Ellen  is 
to  be  married  next  month  and  will  live  in  New  York, 
so  that  Camp  Fire  will  have  to  have  a  new  Guardian." 

"  What  about  the  other  girls  in  it?  " 

"  All  but  three  are  working  girls — salesgirls  in 
stores,  I  think,  most  of  them." 

"  How  did  Olga  happen  to  join  the  Camp  Fire?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  wondered  about  that  myself. 
She  doesn't  make  friends  with  any  of  the  girls,  nor 
join  in  any  of  the  games;  but  work — she  has  a  perfect 
passion  for  work,  and  it  seems  as  if  she  can  do  any- 
thing. She  has  won  twice  as  many  honours  as  any 
other  girl  since  she  came,  but  she  cares  nothing  for 
them — except  to  win  them." 

"  She  must  be  a  strange  character,  but  she  interests 


INTRODUCING  THE  PROBLEM  29 

*  me,"  Laura  said  thoughtfully.  "  Anne,  maybe  I  can 
take  Miss  Grandis'  place  when  she  leaves." 

Anne  gave  her  friend  a  searching  look.  "  Are  you 
sure  you  would  like  it?  Wouldn't  you  rather  have  a 
different  class  of  girls?"  she  asked. 

Laura  answered  gravely,  "  I  want  the  girls  I  can 
help  most — those  that  need  me  most — and  from  what 
you  say,  I  should  think  Olga  needed — some  one — as 
much  as  any  girl  could." 

"  As  much  perhaps,  but  hardly  more  than  some  of 
the  others.  There's  that  little  Annie  Pearson  who 
thinks  of  nothing  but  her  pretty  face  and  '  good  times,' 
and  Myra  Karr  who  is  afraid  of  her  own  shadow  and 
always  clinging  to  the  person  she  happens  to  be  with. 
The  Camp  Fire  is  a  splendid  organisation,  Laura,  and 
it  will  do  a  deal  for  the  girls,  but  still  almost  every 
one  of  them  is  some  sort  of  '  problem  '  that  we  have 
to  study  and  watch  and  labour  over  with  heart  and 
head  and  hands  if  we  hope  really  to  accomplish  any 
permanent  good.  But  come,  we  must  go  back  or  we 
shall  be  late  for  breakfast." 

"  Then  let's  hurry,  for  this  air  has  given  me  a 
famous  appetite,"  Laura  replied.  But  she  did  not 
find  it  easy  to  keep  up  with  her  friend's  steady  stride. 

"  You'll  have  to  get  in  training  for  tramps  if  you 
are  going  to  be  a  Camp  Fire  Girl,"  Anne  taunted 
gaily. 

Laura's  eyes  brightened  as  she  entered  the  big 
dining-room  with  its  canvas  sides  rolled  high. 

"  Just  in  time,"  Anne  said,  as  she  pulled  out  a  chair 
for  Laura  and  slipped  into  the  next  one  herself. 

The  meal  was  cheerful,  almost  hilarious.  "  Mrs. 
Royall  believes  in  laughter.     She  never  checks   the 


30  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

girls  unless  it's  really  necessary,"  Anne  explained 
under  cover  of  the  merry  chatter.     "  She " 

But  Laura  interrupted  her.  "  O  Anne,  that  must 
be  Olga — the  dark  still  girl,  at  the  end  of  the  next 
table,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  Myra  Karr  is  next  to  her.  All  at  that 
table  belong  to  the  Busy  Corner  Camp  Fire." 

After  breakfast  Laura  again  paddled  off  to  the 
yacht  with  Anne.  It  did  not  require  much  coaxing  to 
secure  her  father's  permission  for  her  to  spend  a 
month  at  the  camp  with  Anne  Wentworth  and  Mrs. 
Royall.  He  kept  the  girls  on  the  yacht  for  luncheon, 
and  after  that  they  went  back  to  camp,  a  couple  of 
sailors  following  in  another  boat  with  Laura's  luggage. 

"  How  still  it  is — I  don't  hear  a  sound,"  Laura  said 
wonderingly,  as  she  and  her  friend  approached  the 
camp  through  the  pines. 

Anne  listened,  looking  a  little  perplexed,  as  they 
came  out  into  the  camp  and  found  it  quite  deserted— 
not  a  girl  anywhere  in  sight. 

"  I'll  go  and  find  out  where  everybody  is,"  she  said. 
"  I  see  some  one  moving  in  the  kitchen.  The  cook 
must  be  there." 

She  came  back  laughing.  "  They've  all  gone  berry- 
ing. That's  one  of  the  charms  of  this  camp — the 
spontaneous  fashion  in  which  things  are  done.  Prob- 
ably some  one  said,  '  There  are  blueberries  over  yon- 
der— loads  of  them,'  and  somebody  else  exclaimed, 
'  Let's  go  get  some,'  and  behold  " — she  waved  her 
hand — "  a  deserted  camp." 


Ill 

THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES 

EACH  girl  at  the  camp  was  expected  to  make  her 
own  bed  and  keep  her  belongings  in  order. 
Each  one  also  served  her  turn  in  setting  tables, 
washing  dishes,  etc.  Beyond  this  there  were  no  obliga- 
tory tasks,  but  all  the  girls  were  working  for  honours, 
and  most  of  them  were  trying  to  meet  the  requirements 
for  higher  rank.  Some  were  making  their  official 
dresses.  Girls  who  were  skilful  with  the  needle  could 
secure  beautiful  and  effective  results  with  silks  and 
beads,  and  of  course  every  girl  wanted  a  headband  of 
beadwork  and  a  necklace — all  except  Olga  Priest. 
Olga  was  working  on  a  basket  of  raffia,  making  it 
from  a  design  of  her  own,  when  Ellen  Grandis,  her 
Guardian,  came  to  her  just  after  Anne  Wentworth 
and  Laura  had  left  the  camp. 

"  I've  come  to  ask  your  help,  Olga,"  Miss  Grandis 
began. 

The  girl  dropped  the  basket  in  her  lap,  and  waited. 

Miss  Grandis  went  on,  "  It  is  something  that  will 
require  much  patience  and  kindness " 

"  Then  you'd  better  ask  some  one  else,  Miss  Grandis. 
You  know  that  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  kind,"  Olga 
interrupted,  not  rudely  but  with  finality. 

"  But  you  are  very  patient  and  persevering,  and — 
I  don't  know  why,  but  I  have  a  feeling  that  you  could 
do  more  for  this  one  girl  than  any  one  else  here  could. 

31 


32  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

She  is  coming  to  take  the  only  vacant  place  in  our 
Camp  Fire.    Shall  I  tell  you  about  her,  Olga  ?  " 

"  If  you  like."  The  girl's  tone  was  politely  indif- 
ferent. 

With  a  little  sigh  Miss  Grandis  went  on,  "  Her 
name  is  Elizabeth  Page.  She  is  about  a  year  younger 
than  you,  and  she  has  had  a  very  hard  life." 

Olga's  lips  tightened  and  a  shadow  swept  across 
her  dark  eyes. 

Miss  Grandis  continued,  "  You  have  superb  health 
— this  girl  has  perhaps  never  been  really  well  for  a 
single  day.  You  have  a  brain  and  hands  that  enable 
you  to  accomplish  almost  what  you  will.  Poor  Eliza- 
beth can  do  so  few  things  well  that  she  has  no  con- 
fidence in  herself:  yet  I  believe  she  might  do  many 
things  if  only  she  could  be  made  to  believe  in  herself 
a  little.  She  needs — O,  everything  that  the  Camp  Fire 
can  do  for  a  girl.  Olga,  won't  you  help  us  to  help 
her?" 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  There  was  no  trace  of  sympathy 
in  the  cold  voice,  and  suddenly  the  eager  hopefulness 
faded  out  of  Miss  Grandis'  face. 

"  How  can  you  indeed,  if  you  do  not  care.  I  am 
afraid  I  made  a  mistake  in  coming  to  you,  after  all," 
she  said  sadly.  "  I'm  sorry,  Olga — sorry  even  more 
on  your  account  than  on  Elizabeth's." 

With  that  she  rose  and  went  away,  and  Olga  looked 
after  her  thoughtfully  for  a  moment  before  she  took 
up  her  work  again. 

A  little  later  Myra  Karr  stood  looking  down  at  her 
with  a  curious  expression  in  her  wide  blue  eyes. 

"  I'm — I'm  going  to  walk  to  Kent's  Corners,"  she 
announced,  with  a  little    nervous  catch  in  her  voice. 


THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES  33 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  You've  been  there  before, 
haven't  you  ?  "  Olga  retorted. 

"  Yes,  but  this  time  I'm  going  all  alone!" 

Olga's  only  reply  was  a  swift  mocking  smile. 

"  I  am — Olga  Priest !  "  repeated  Myra,  stamping  her 
foot  angrily.  "  You  all  think  me  a  coward — I'll  just 
show  you !  "  and  with  that  she  whirled  around  and 
marched  off,  her  chin  up  and  her  cheeks  flushed. 

As  she  passed  a  group  of  girls  busy  over  bead- 
work,  one  of  them  called  out,  "  What's  the  matter, 
Bunny?" 

Myra  paused  and  faced  them.  "  I'm  going  to  walk 
to  Kent's  Corners  alone!"  she  cried  defiantly. 

A  shout  of  incredulous  laughter  greeted  that. 

"  Better  give  it  up  before  you  start,  Bunny,"  said 
one. 

Another,  with  a  mischievous  laugh,  whisked  out  her 
handkerchief  and  in  a  flash  had  twisted  it  into  a  rabbit 
with  flopping  ears.  "  Bunny,  bunny,  bunny !  "  she 
called,  making  the  rabbit  hop  across  her  lap. 

Myra's  blue  eyes  filled  with  angry  tears.  "  You're 
horrid,  Louise  Johnson !  "  she  cried  out.  "  You're  all 
horrid.  But  I'll  show  you !  "  and  with  a  glance  that 
swept  the  whole  laughing  group,  she  threw  back  her 
head  and  marched  on. 

The  girls  looked  after  her  and  then  at  each 
other. 

"  Believe  she'll  really  do  it  ?  "  one  questioned  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Not  she.  Maybe  she'll  get  as  far  as  the  village," 
replied  another. 

"  She'd  never  dare  pass  Slabtown  alone — never  in 
the  world,"  a  third  declared  with  decision. 


34.  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Poor  Myra,  I'm  sorry  for  her.  It  must  be  awful 
to  be  scared  at  everything  as  she  is ! "  This  from 
Mary  Hastings,  a  big  blonde  who  did  not  know  what 
fear  was. 

"  Bunny  certainly  is  the  scariest  girl  in  this  camp," 
laughed  Louise  Johnson  carelessly.  "  She's  afraid  of 
her  own  shadow." 

"  Then  she  ought  to  have  more  credit  than  the  rest 
of  us  when  she  does  do  a  brave  thing,"  put  in  little 
Bess  Carroll  in  her  gentle  way. 

"  We'll  give  her  credit  all  right  if  she  goes  to  Kent's 
Corners,"  retorted  Louise. 

Just  then  another  girl  ran  up  to  the  group  and  an- 
nounced that  a  blueberry  picnic  had  been  arranged. 
Somebody  had  discovered  a  pasture  where  the  bushes 
were  loaded  with  luscious  fruit.  They  would  carry 
lunch,  and  bring  back  enough  for  a  regular  blueberry 
festival. 

"  All  who  want  to  go,  get  baskets  or  pails  and  come 
on,"  the  girl  ended. 

In  an  instant  the  others  were  on  their  feet,  work 
thrown  aside,  and  five  minutes  later  there  was  no  one 
but  the  cook  left  in  the  camp. 

By  that  time  Myra  Karr  was  tramping  steadily  on 
towards  Kent's  Corners.  Scarcely  another  girl  in  the 
camp  would  have  minded  that  walk,  but  never  before 
had  she  dared  to  take  it  alone;  now  in  spite  of  her 
nervous  fears,  she  felt  a  little  thrill  of  incredulous  pride 
in  herself.  So  many  times  she  had  planned  to  do  this 
thing,  but  always  before  her  courage  had  failed.  Now, 
now  she  was  really  doing  it !  And  if  she  went  all  the 
way  perhaps — O,  perhaps  the  girls  would  stop  calling 
her  Bunny.    How  she  hated  that  name !     She  hurried 


A  group  of  girls  busy  over  bead-work 


THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES  35 

on,  her  heart  beating  hard,  her  hands  tight-clenched, 
her  eyes  fearfully  searching  the  long  sunny  road  before 
her  and  the  woods  or  fields  that  bordered  it.  It  was 
not  so  bad  the  first  part  of  the  way — the  mile  and  a 
half  to  the  little  village  of  East  Bassett.  To  be  sure, 
she  had  never  before  been  even  that  far  alone,  but 
she  had  been  many  times  with  other  girls.  She  passed 
slowly  and  lingeringly  through  the  village.  Should  she 
turn  back  now  ?  Before  her  flashed  the  face  of  Olga 
with  that  little  cold  mocking  smile,  and  she  saw  again 
Louise  Johnson  hopping  her  handkerchief  rabbit 
across  her  lap.  The  incredulous  laughter  with  which 
the  others  had  greeted  her  announcement  rang  still  in 
her  ears.  She  was  walking  very  very  slowly,  but — 
but  no,  she  wouldn't — she  couldn't  turn  back.  She 
forced  her  unwilling  feet  to  go  on — to  go  faster,  faster 
until  she  was  almost  running.  She  was  beyond  the 
village  now  and  another  mile  and  a  half  would  bring 
her  to  Slabtown.  Slabtown!  She  had  forgotten  Slab- 
town.  The  colour  died  swiftly  out  of  her  face  as  she 
remembered  it  now.  Even  with  a  crowd  of  girls  she 
had  never  passed  the  place  without  a  fearful  shrinking, 
and  now  alone — could  she  pass  those  ugly  cabins 
swarming  with  rough,  dirty  men  and  slovenly  women 
and  rude,  staring  children  ?  Her  knees  trembled  under 
her  even  at  the  thought,  and  her  newborn  courage 
melted  like  wax.  It  was  no  use.  She  could  not  do  it. 
She  wavered,  stopped,  and  turned  slowly  around.  As 
she  did  so  a  grey  rabbit  with  a  white  tail  scurried 
across  the  road  before  her,  his  ears  flattened  against 
his  head  and  his  eyes  bulging  with  terror.  The  sight 
of  him  suddenly  steadied  the  girl.  She  stood  still 
looking  after  the  tiny  grey  streak  flying  across  a  wide 


36  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

green  pasture,  and  a  queer  crooked  smile  was  on  her 
trembling  lips. 

"  A  bunny — another  bunny/'  she  said  under  her 
breath,  "  and  just  as  scared  as  I  am — at  nothing.  I 
won't  be  a  bunny  any  longer !  I  won't  be  the  camp 
coward — I  won't,  won't,  won't!"  she  cried  aloud,  and 
turning,  went  on  again  swiftly  with  her  head  lifted. 
A  bit  of  colour  drifted  back  to  her  white  cheeks,  and 
her  heart  stopped  its  heavy  thumping  as  she  drew  a 
long  deep  breath.  She  would  not  let  herself  think  of 
Slabtown.  She  counted  the  trees  she  passed,  named 
the  birds  that  wheeled  and  circled  about  her,  even  re- 
peated the  multiplication  table — anything  to  keep 
Slabtown  out  of  her  thoughts ;  but  all  the  while  the 
black  dread  of  it  was  there  in  the  back  of  her  mind. 
When  she  caught  sight  of  the  sawmill  where  the  Slab- 
town  men  earned  their  bread,  her  feet  began  to  drag 
again. 

"  I  can't — O,  I  can't !  "  she  sobbed  out,  two  big  tears 
rolling  down  her  cheeks.  Then  across  her  mind 
flashed  a  vision  of  the  little  cottontail  streaking  madly 
across  the  road  before  her,  and  again  some  strange 
new  power  within  urged  her  on.  She  went  on  slowly, 
reluctantly,  with  dragging  feet,  but  still  she  went  on. 
There  were  no  men  about  the  place  at  this  hour — they 
were  at  work — but  untidy  women  sat  on  their  door- 
steps or  rocked  at  the  windows,  and  a  horde  of  ragged 
barefooted  children  catching  sight  of  the  girl  swarmed 
out  into  the  road  to  stare  at  her.  Some  begged  for 
pennies,  and  getting  none,  yelled  after  her  and  threw 
stones  till -she  took  to  her  heels  and  ran  "  just  like  the 
other  bunny !  "  she  told  herself  in  miserable  scorn, 
when  once  she  was  safely  past  the  settlement.    Well, 


THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES  37 

there  was  no  other  such  place  to  pass,  but — she  shiv- 
ered as  she  remembered  that  she  must  pass  this  one 
again  on  the  way  back. 

She  went  on  swiftly  now  with  only  occasionally  a 
fearful  glance  on  either  side  when  the  road  cut  through 
the  woods.  Once  a  farmer  going  by  offered  her  a 
ride ;  but  she  shook  her  head  and  plodded  on.  It  was 
half-past  eleven  when,  with  a  great  throb  of  relief  and 
joy,  she  came  in  sight  of  the  Corners.  A  few  minutes 
more  and  she  was  in  the  village  street  with  its  homey- 
looking  white  houses  and  flower  gardens.  She  longed 
to  stop  and  rest  on  one  of  the  vine-shaded  porches, 
but  she  was  too  shy  to  ask  permission.  At 
the  store  she  did  stop,  and  rested  a  few  minutes  in 
one  of  the  battered  wooden  chairs  on  the  little 
porch,  but  it  was  sunny  and  hot  there.  Now  for 
the  first  time  she  thought  of  lunch,  but  she 
had  not  a  penny  with  her;  she  must  go  hungry 
until  she  got  back  to  camp.  A  boy  came  up  the  steps 
munching  a  red  apple,  his  pockets  bulging  with  others. 
The  storekeeper's  little  girl  ran  out  on  the  porch  with 
a  big  molasses  cooky  just  out  of  the  oven,  and  the 
warm  spicy  odour  of  it  made  Myra  realise  how  hungry 
she  was.  She  looked  so  longingly  at  the  cooky  that 
the  child,  seeming  to  read  her  thoughts,  crowded  it  all 
hastily  into  her  own  mouth.  Myra  laughed  a  bit  at 
that,  and  after  a  little  rest,  set  off  on  her  return.  She 
was  tired  and  hungry,  but  a  strange  new  joy  was 
throbbing  at  her  heart.  She  had  come  all  the  way  to 
Kent's  Corners  alone — they  could  not  call  her  a  coward 
now!  That  thought  more  than  balanced  her  weariness 
and  hunger.  She  had  to  walk  all  the  way  back — she 
had  to  pass  Slabtown  again.     Yes,  but  now  she  was 


38  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

not  afraid — not  afraid!  She  drew  herself  up  to  her 
slender  height,  threw  back  her  head,  and  laughed 
aloud  in  the  joy  of  her  deliverance  from  the  fear  that 
had  held  her  in  bondage  all  her  life.  She  didn't  under- 
stand in  the  least  how  it  had  happened,  but  she  knew 
that  at  last  she  was  free — free — like  the  other  girls 
whom  she  had  envied;  and  dimly  she  began  to  realise 
that  this  was  a  big  thing — something  that  would  make 
all  her  life  different.  She  walked  as  if  she  were  tread- 
ing on  air.  The  loneliness  of  the  woods,  of  the  long 
stretch  of  empty  road,  no  longer  filled  her  with  trem- 
bling terror. 

As  for  the  second  time  she  approached  Slabtown, 
her  heart  began  to  beat  a  little  faster,  but  the  newborn 
courage  did  not  fail  her  now.  She  found  herself 
whistling  a  gay  tune  and  laughed.  Whistling  to  keep 
her  courage  up?  Was  that  what  she  was  doing? 
Never  mind — the  courage  was  up.  The  women  still  sat 
on  their  doorsteps  or  stared  from  their  windows,  but 
this  time  the  children  did  not  swarm  around  her. 
They  stood  by  the  roadside  and  stared,  but  none  called 
after  her  or  followed  her.  She  did  not  realise  how 
great  was  the  difference  between  the  girl  who  now 
walked  by  with  shining  eyes  and  lifted  head,  and  the 
white-faced  trembling  little  creature  with  terror  writ 
large  in  every  line  of  her  face  and  figure  that  had 
scurried  by  earlier  in  the  day.  But  the  children  real- 
ised it.  Instinctively  now  they  knew  her  unafraid, 
and  they  did  not  venture  to  badger  her.  She  even 
smiled  and  waved  her  hand  to  them  as  she  went  by, 
and  at  that  a  youngster  of  a  dozen  years  suddenly  broke 
out,  "  Three  cheers  fer  the  girl — now,  fellers ! "  And 
with  the  echo  of  the  shrill  response  ringing  in  her 


THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES  39 

ears,  Myra  passed  on,  proud  and  happy  as  never  before 
in  her  life. 

All  the  rest  of  the  way  she  went  with  the  new  happy 
consciousness  making  music  in  her  heart — the  con- 
sciousness of  victory  won.  The  last  mile  or  two  her 
feet  dragged,  but  it  was  from  weariness  and  lack  of 
food.  As  she  drew  near  the  camp  her  steps  quickened, 
her  head  went  up  again,  and  her  eyes  began  to  shine ; 
but  when  she  came  to  the  white  tents,  she  stood  look- 
ing about  in  blank  amazement.  There  was  not  a  girl 
anywhere  in  sight ;  even  the  cook  was  missing. 

Myra  stood  for  a  moment  wondering  where  they 
had  all  gone ;  then  she  walked  slowly  across  the  camp 
to  a  hammock  swung  behind  a  clump  of  low-growing 
pines.  Dropping  into  the  hammock,  she  tucked  a  cush- 
ion under  her  head  and,  with  a  long  sigh  of  delicious 
content  and  restfulness  her  eyes  closed  and  in  two 
minutes  she  was  sound  asleep — so  sound  asleep  that 
when,  an  hour  later,  the  girls  came  straggling  back 
with  pails  and  baskets  full  of  big  luscious  berries,  the 
gay  cries  and  laughter  and  chatter  of  many  voices  did 
not  arouse  her. 

The  girls  trooped  over  to  the  kitchen  and  delivered 
up  their  spoil  to  the  cook. 

"  Now,  Katie,"  cried  one,  "  you  must  make  us  some 
blueberry  flapjacks  for  supper — lots  and  lots  of  'em, 
too!" 

"  And  blueberry  gingerbread,"  added  another. 

"  And  pies — fat  juicy  pies,"  called  a  third. 

"  And  rolypoly — blueberry  rolypoly  !  "  shouted  yet 
another. 

The  cook,  her  arms  on  her  hips,  stood  laughing  into 
the  sun-browned  young  faces  before  her. 


40  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Sure  ye're  not  askin'  me  to  make  all  them  things 
fer  ye  to-night!"  she  protested  gaily. 

"  We-ell,  not  all  maybe.  We  can  wait  till  to-morrow 
for  some  of  them.  But  heaps  and  heaps  of  flapjacks, 
Katie  dear,  if  you  love  us,  and  you  know  you  do," 
coaxed  Louise  Johnson. 

"  Love  ye  ?  Love  ye,  did  ye  say  ?  "  laughed  the  cook. 
"  Be  off  wid  ye  now  an'  lave  me  in  pace  or  ye'll  not 
get  a  smitch  of  a  flapjack  to  yer  supper.  Shoo!  "  and 
she  waved  them  off  with  her  apron. 

As  the  laughing  girls  turned  away  from  the  kitchen, 
Mary  Hastings  came  towards  them  from  the  other  side 
of  the  camp. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Molly  ?  You  look  as  sober  as 
an  owl !  "  cried  Louise  who  never  looked  sober. 

"  It's  Myra — she  isn't  here.  Miss  Grandis  and  I 
have  hunted  all  over  the  camp  for  her,"  Mary  an- 
swered. "  You  know  she  started  for  Kent's  Corners 
before  we  went  berrying." 

"  So  she  did,"  cried  another  girl,  the  merriment  dy- 
ing out  of  her  eyes.  "  You  don't  suppose  she  really 
went  there  ?  " 

"  Myra  Karr — alone — to  Kent's  Corners  ?  Never  in 
the  world,"  Louise  flung  out  carelessly.  "  She's  some- 
where about.  Let's  call  her."  She  lifted  her  voice  and 
called  aloud,  "  Myra,  Myra,  My-raa !  " 

At  the  call  Mrs.  Royall  came  hastily  towards  them. 
"  Where  is  Myra?  Didn't  she  go  berrying  with  us?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  No/'  Louise  explained  lightly.  "  Bunny  got  her 
back  up  this  morning  and  said  she  was  going  alone  to 
Kent's  Corners,  but  of  course  she  didn't.    She's  started 


THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES  41 

that  stunt  half  a  dozen  times  and  always  backed  out. 
She's  just  around  somewhere." 

But  Mrs.  Royall  still  looked  troubled.  "  She  must 
be  found,"  she  said  with  quick  decision.  "  Get  the 
megaphone,  Louise,  and  call  her  with  that." 

Still  laughing,  Louise  obeyed.  Her  clear  voice  car- 
ried well,  and  many  keen  young  ears  were  strained 
for  the  response  that  did  not  come.  In  the  silence  that 
followed  a  second  call,  Mrs.  Royall  spoke  to  another 
girl. 

"  Edith,  get  your  bugle  and  sound  the  recall.  If 
that  does  not  bring  her,  two  of  you  must  hurry  over 
to  the  farm  and  harness  Billy  into  the  buggy;  and  I 
will  drive  to  Kent's  Corners  at  once." 

The  girls  were  no  longer  laughing.  "  You  don't 
think  anything  could  have  happened  to  Myra,  Mrs. 
Royall?"  one  of  them  questioned  anxiously.  "Al- 
most all  of  us  have  walked  over  there.  I  went  alone 
and  so  did  Mary." 

"  I  know,  but  Myra  is  such  a  timid  little  thing.  She 
cannot  do  what  most  of  you  can." 

Edith  Rue  came  running  back  with  her  bugle,  and 
in  a  moment  the  notes  of  the  recall  floated  out  on  the 
still  summer  air.  It  was  a  rigid  rule  of  the  camp 
that  the  recall  should  be  promptly  answered  by  any  girl 
within  hearing,  so  when,  in  the  silence  that  followed,  no 
response  was  heard,  Mrs.  Royall  sent  the  two  girls  for 
the  horse  and  buggy. 

"  Have  them  here  as  quickly  as  possible,"  she  called 
after  them. 

Before  the  messengers  were  out  of  sight,  however, 
there  was  an  outcry  behind  them. 

"  Why,  there  she  is !     There's   Myra  now !  "  and 


42  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

every  face  turned  towards  the  small  figure  coming 
from  the  clump  of  evergreens^  her  eyes  still  half-dazed 
with  sleep. 

With  an  exclamation  of  relief,  Mrs.  Royall  hurried 
to  meet  her. 

"  Where  were  you,  child  ?  Didn't  you  hear  us  call- 
ing you?  "  she  asked. 

"  I — I — no.  I  heard  the  recall,  and  I  came — I  guess 
I  was  asleep,"  stammered  Myra  bewildered  by  some- 
thing tense  in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  eyes  all  centred 
on  her. 

"  Asleep !  "  echoed  Louise  Johnson  with  a  chuckle. 
"What  did  I  tell  you,  girls?" 

But  Mrs.  Royall  saw  that  Myra  looked  pale  and 
tired,  and  she  noticed  the  change  that  came  over  her 
face  as  Louise  spoke.  A  quick  wave  of  colour  swept 
the  pale  cheeks  and  the  small  head  was  lifted  with  an 
air  that  was  new  and  strange — in  Myra  Karr.  Mrs. 
Royall  spoke  again,  laying  her  hand  gently  on  the  girl's 
shoulder. 

"  Myra,  how  long  have  you  been  asleep  ?  How  long 
have  you  been  back  in  camp  ?  " 

And  Myra  answered  quietly,  but  with  that  new  pride 
in  her  voice,  "  It  was  quarter  of  four  by  the  kitchen 
clock  when  I  came.  There  was  nobody  here — not  even 
Katie " 

"  I'd  just  run  out  a  bit  to  see  if  anny  of  ye  was 
comin',"  put  in  the  cook  from  the  kitchen  door  where 
she  stood,  as  much  interested  as  any  one  else  in  what 
was  going  on. 

"And  did  you  go  to  Kent's  Corners,  my  dear?" 
Mrs.  Royall  questioned  gently. 

It  was  Myra's  hour  of  triumph.    She  forgot  Louise 


THE  CAMP  COWARD  DARES  43 

Johnson's  mocking  laugh — forgot  everything  but  her 
beautiful  new  freedom. 

"  O,  I  did— I  did,  Mrs.  Royall !  "  she  cried  out.  "  I 
was  awfully  frightened  at  first,  but  coming  home  I 
wasn't  one  bit  afraid,  and,  please,  you  won't  let  them 
call  me  Bunny  any  more,  will  you?  " 

"  No,  my  child,  no.  You've  won  a  new  name  and 
you  shall  have  it  at  the  next  Council  Fire.  I'm  so  glad, 
Myra !  "  Mrs.  Royall's  face  was  almost  as  radiant  as 
the  girl's. 

It  was  Louise  Johnson  who  called  out,  "  Three 
cheers  for  Myra  Karr !    She's  a  trump ! " 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  will.  Tears  filled 
Myra's  eyes,  but  they  were  happy  tears,  as  the  girls 
crowded  around  her  with  questions  and  exclamations, 
and  Miss  Grandis  stood  with  a  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  That's  what  Camp  Fire  has  done  for  one  girl," 
Mrs.  Royall  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Laura  Haven. 
"  That  child  was  afraid  of  the  dark,  afraid  of  the 
water,  afraid  to  be  alone  a  minute,  when  she  came. 
It  is  a  great  triumph  for  her — a  great  victory." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Laura  thoughtfully,  and  Anne 
added, 

"  You've  no  idea  how  lonesome  the  camp  looked 
when  Laura  and  I  came  back  and  found  you  all  gone. 
It  was  so  still  it  seemed  almost  uncanny.  Myra  never 
would  have  dared  to  stay  alone  here  before." 


IV 

THE  POOR  THING 

A  WEEK  later  Miss  Grandis  was  called  home  by 
illness  in  her  family,  and  she  asked  Laura 
to  drive  to  the  station  with  her. 

"  I  wanted  the  chance  to  talk  with  you,"  she  ex- 
plained, as  they  drove  along  the  quiet  country  road. 
"  You  know  I  should  not  have  been  able  to  stay  here 
much  longer  anyhow,  and  now  I  shall  not  come  back, 
and  I  want  you  to  take  charge  of  my  girls.  Will 
you?" 

"  O,  I  can't  yet — I  haven't  had  half  enough  train- 
ing," Laura  protested. 

"  I  know,  but  you've  put  so  much  into  the  time  you 
have  had  in  camp,  and  I  know  that  Mrs.  Royall  will 
be  glad  to  have  you  in  my  place.  You  can  keep  on  with 
your  training  just  the  same.  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
the  girls."  She  told  something  of  the  environment  of 
each  one — enough  to  help  Laura  to  understand  their 
needs.  "  And  there's  Elizabeth  Page,  who  is  coming 
to-morrow,"  she  went  on.  "  I  always  think  of  her 
as  the  Poor  Thing.  O,  I  do  so  hope  the  Camp  Fire 
will  do  a  great  deal  for  her — she's  had  so  pitifully  little 
in  her  life  thus  far.  Her  mother  died  when  she  was 
a  baby,  and  she  has  been  just  a  drudge  for  her  step- 
mother and  the  younger  children,  and  she's  not  strong 
enough  for  such  hard  work.  She's  never  had  any- 
thing for  herself.     The  camp  will  seem  like  paradise 

44 


THE  POOR  THING  45 

to  her  if  she  can  only  get  in  touch  with  things — I'm 
sure  it  will." 

"  I'll  do  my  best  for  her,"  Laura  promised. 

"  I  know  you  will.  And  you'll  meet  her  when  she 
comes,  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  Laura  returned. 

There  was  no  time  to  spare  when  they  reached  the 
station,  but  Miss  Grandis'  last  word  was  of  Elizabeth 
and  her  great  need. 

Laura  was  at  the  station  early  the  next  day,  and 
would  have  recognised  the  Poor  Thing  even  if  she 
had  not  been  the  only  girl  leaving  the  train  at  that 
place.  Elizabeth  was  seventeen,  but  she  might  have 
been  taken  for  fourteen  until  one  looked  into  her  eyes 
— they  seemed  to  mirror  the  pain  and  privation  of 
half  a  century.  Laura's  heart  went  out  to  her  in  a 
wave  of  pitying  tenderness,  but  the  girl  drew  back  as 
if  frightened  by  the  warm  friendliness  of  her  greeting. 

All  the  way  back  to  camp  she  sat  silent,  answering 
a  direct  question  with  a  nod  or  shake  of  the  head,  but 
never  speaking ;  and  when,  at  the  camp,  a  crowd  of 
girls  came  to  meet  the  newcomer,  she  looked  wildly 
around  as  if  for  refuge  from  all  these  strangers.  See- 
ing this,  Laura,  with  a  whispered  word,  sent  the  girls 
away,  and  introduced  Elizabeth  only  to  Mrs.  Royall 
and  Anne  Wentworth. 

"Another  scared  rabbit?"  giggled  Louise  Johnson. 

"  Don't  call  her  that,  Louise,"  said  Bessie  Carroll. 
"  I'm  awfully  sorry  for  the  poor  thing." 

Laura,  overhearing  the  low-spoken  words,  said  to 
herself,  "  There  it  is — Poor  Thing.  That  name  is 
bound  to  cling  to  her,  it  fits  so  exactly." 

It  did  fit  exactly,  and  within  two  days  Elizabeth  was 


46  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

the  Poor  Thing  to  every  girl  in  the  camp.  Laura 
kept  the  child  with  her  most  of  the  first  day ;  she  was 
quiet  and  still  as  a  ghost,  did  as  she  was  told,  and 
watched  all  that  went  on,  but  she  spoke  to  no  one  and 
never  asked  a  question.  At  night  she  was  given  a  cot 
next  to  Olga's.  When  Laura  showed  her  her  place 
at  bedtime,  she  pointed  to  the  adjoining  tent. 

"  I  sleep  right  there,  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  "  and  if 
you  want  anything  in  the  night,  just  speak,  and  I 
shall  hear  you.  But  I  hope  you  will  sleep  so  soundly 
that  you  won't  know  anything  till  morning.  It's 
lovely  sleeping  out  of  doors  like  this !  " 

Elizabeth  said  nothing,  but  she  shivered  as  she  cast 
a  fearful  glance  into  the  shadowy  spaces  beyond  the 
tents,  and  Laura  hastened  to  add,  "  You  needn't  be  a 
bit  afraid.  Nothing  but  birds  and  squirrels  ever  come 
around  here." 

Elizabeth  went  early  to  bed,  and  was  apparently 
sound  asleep  when  the  other  girls  went  to  their  cots. 
But  after  all  was  still  and  the  camp  lights  out,  she  lay 
trembling,  and  staring  wide-eyed  into  the  darkness. 
A  thousand  strange  small  sounds  beat  on  her  strained 
ears,  and  when  suddenly  the  hoot  of  an  owl  rang  out 
from  a  nearby  treetop,  Elizabeth  sprang  up  with  a 
frightened  cry  and  clutched  wildly  at  the  girl  in  the 
nearest  cot. 

Olga's  cold  voice  answered  her  cry.  "  It's  nothing 
but  an  owl,  you  goose !    Go  back  to  your  bed !  " 

But  Elizabeth  was  on  her  knees,  clinging  desper- 
ately to  Olga's  hand. 

"  O,  I'm  afraid,  I'm  afraid !  "  she  moaned.  "  Please 
please  let  me  stay  here  with  you.  I  never  was  in  a 
p-place  like  this  before." 


THE  POOR  THING  47 

Olga  jerked  her  hand  away  from  the  clinging  fingers. 
"  Get  back  to  your  bed !  "  she  ordered  under  her 
breath.    "  Anybody 'd  think  you  were  a  baby." 

"  I  don't  care  what  anybody'd  think  if  you'll  only 
let  me  stay.  I — I  must  touch  s-somebody,"  wailed  the 
Poor  Thing  in  a  choked  voice. 

"  Well,  it  won't  be  me  you'll  touch,"  retorted  Olga. 
"  And  if  you  don't  keep  still  I'll  report  you  in  the 
morning.  You'll  have  every  girl  in  the  camp  awake 
presently." 

"  O,  I  don't  care,"  sobbed  Elizabeth  under  her 
breath.  "  I — I  want  to  go  home.  I'd  rather  die  than 
stay  here !  " 

"  Well,  die  if  you  like,  but  leave  the  rest  of  us  to 
sleep  in  peace,"  muttered  Olga,  and  turning  her  face 
away  from  the  wretched  little  creature  crouching  at 
her  side,  she  went  calmly  to  sleep. 

When  she  awoke  she  gave  a  casual  glance  at  the  next 
cot.  It  was  empty,  but  on  the  floor  was  a  small  hud- 
dled figure,  one  hand  still  clutching  Olga's  blanket. 
Olga  started  to  yank  the  blanket  away,  but  the  look  of 
suffering  in  the  white  face  stayed  her  impatient  hand. 
She  touched  the  thin  shoulder  of  Elizabeth,  and  for 
once  her  touch  was  almost  gentle.  Elizabeth  opened 
her  eyes  with  a  start  as  Olga  whispered,  "  Get  back  to 
your  bed.    There's  an  hour  before  rising  time." 

Elizabeth  crawled  slowly  back  to  her  own  cot,  but 
she  did  not  sleep  again.  Neither  did  Olga,  and  she 
was  uncomfortably  aware  that  a  pair  of  timid  blue 
eyes  were  on  her  face  until  she  turned  her  back  on 
them. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  morning  the  girls  all  trooped 
down  to  the  water.    Some  in  full  knickerbockers  and 


48  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

middy  blouses  were  going  to  row  or  paddle,  but  most 
wore  bathing  suits.  With  some  difficulty  Laura  per- 
suaded Elizabeth  to  put  on  a  bathing  suit  that  Miss 
Grandis  had  left  for  her,  but  no  urging  or  coaxing 
could  induce  her  to  go  into  the  water  even  to  wade, 
though  other  girls  were  swimming  and  splashing  and 
frolicking  like  mermaids.  Elizabeth  sat  on  the  sand, 
her  eyes  following  Olga's  dark  head  as  the  girl  swept 
through  the  water  like  a  fish — swimming,  floating, 
diving — she  seemed  as  much  at  home  in  the  water  as 
on  land. 

"  You  can  do  all  those  things  too,  Elizabeth,  if  you 
will,"  Laura  told  her.  "  Look  at  Myra,  there — she  has 
always  been  afraid  to  try  to  swim,  but  she's  learning 
to-day,  and  see  how  she  is  enjoying  it." 

Elizabeth  drew  further  into  her  shell  of  silence. 
She  cast  a  fleeting  glance  at  Myra  Karr,  nervously 
trying  to  obey  Mary  Hastings'  directions  and  "  act 
like  a  frog  " — then  her  eyes  searched  again  for  Olga, 
now  far  out  in  the  bay. 

When  she  could  not  distinguish  the  dark  head, 
anxiety  at  last  conquered  her  timidity,  and  she  turned 
to  Laura : 

"  O,  is  she  drowned  ?  "  she  cried  under  her  breath. 
"  Olga— is  she  ?  " 

Anne  Wentworth  laughed  out  at  the  question. 
"  Why,  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  leaning  towards  her, 
"  Olga's  a  perfect  fish  in  the  water.  She's  the  best 
swimmer  in  camp.     Look — there  she  comes  now." 

She  came  swimming  on  her  side,  one  strong  brown 
arm  cutting  swiftly  and  steadily  through  the  water. 
When  presently  she  walked  up  on  the  beach,  a  pale 
smile  glimmered  over  Elizabeth's  face,  but  it  vanished 


THE  POOR  THING  49 

at  Olga's  glance  as  she  passed  with  the  scornful  fling — 
"  Haven't  even  wet  your  feet — baby!" 

Elizabeth's  face  flushed  and  she  drew  her  bare  feet 
under  her. 

"  Never  mind,  you'll  wet  them  to-morrow,  won't 
you,  Elizabeth  ?  "  Laura  said ;  but  the  Poor  Thing  made 
no  reply ;  she  only  gulped  down  a  sob  as  she  looked 
after  the  straight  young  figure  in  the  dripping  bathing 
suit  marching  down  the  beach. 

"  She  notices  no  one  but  Olga,"  Laura  said  as  she 
walked  back  to  camp  with  her  friend.  "  If  Olga  would 
only  take  an  interest  in  her!  " 

"  If  only  she  would !  "  Anne  agreed.  "  But  she 
seems  to  have  no  more  feeling  than  a  fish !  " 

Many  of  the  girls  did  their  best  to  draw  the  Poor 
Thing  out  of  her  shell  of  scared  silence,  but  they  all 
failed.  And  Olga  would  do  nothing.  Yet  Elizabeth 
followed  Olga  like  her  shadow  day  after  day.  Olga's 
impatient  rebuffs — even  her  angry  commands — only 
made  the  Poor  Thing  hang  back  a  little. 

When  things  had  gone  on  so  for  a  week,  Laura 
asked  Olga  to  go  with  her  to  the  village.  She  went, 
but  they  were  no  sooner  on  the  road  than  she  began 
abruptly,  "  I  know  what  you  want  of  me,  Miss  Haven, 
but  it's  no  use.  I  can't  be  bothered  with  that  Poor 
Thing — she  makes  me  sick — always  hanging  around 
and  wanting  to  get  her  hands  on  me.  I  can't  stand 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  I  won't — that's  all  there  is 
about  it.     I'll  go  home  first." 

When  Laura  answered  nothing,  Olga  glanced  at 
her  grave  face  and  went  on  sulkily,  "  Nobody  ought  to 
expect  me  to  put  up  with  an  everlasting  trailer  like 
that  girl." 


50  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Still  Laura  was  silent  until  Olga  flung  out,  "  You 
might  as  well  say  it.  I  know  what  you  are  thinking 
of  me." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  you,  Olga.  I  was  thinking 
of  Elizabeth.  If  you  saw  her  drowning  you'd  plunge 
in  and  save  her  without  a  moment's  hesitation." 

"  Of  course  I  would — but  I  wouldn't  have  her  hang- 
ing on  to  me  like  a  leech  after  I'd  saved  her." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  not  realised  that  in  '  hanging 
on  '  to  you — as  you  express  it — she  is  simply  fighting 
for  her  life." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Haven?  " 

"  I  mean  that  Elizabeth  is — starving.  Not  food  star- 
vation, but  a  worse  kind.  Olga,  this  is  the  first  time 
in  her  life  that  she  has  ever  spent  a  day  away  from 
home — she  told  me  that — or  ever  had  any  one  try  to 
make  her  happy.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  she  doesn't 
know  how  to  be  happy  or  make  friends?  It  seems 
strange  that,  from  among  so  many  who  would  gladly 
be  her  friends  here,  she  should  have  chosen  you  who 
are  not  willing  to  be  a  friend  to  any  one — strange,  and 
a  great  pity,  it  seems.  It  throws  an  immense  respon- 
sibility upon  you." 

"  I  don't  want  any  such  responsibility.  I  don't 
think  any  of  you  ought  to  put  it  on  me,"  Olga  flung 
out  sulkily. 

"  We  are  not  putting  it  on  you,"  returned  Laura 
gently. 

Olga  twitched  her  shoulder  with  an  impatient  ges- 
ture, and  the  two  walked  some  distance  before  she 
spoke  again.  Then  it  was  to  say,  "  What  are  you 
asking  me  to  do,  anyhow?  " 

"I  am  not  asking  you  to  do  anything,"  Laura  an- 


THE  POOR  THING  51 

swered.  "  It  is  for  you  to  ask  yourself  what  you  are 
going  to  do.  I  believe  it  is  in  your  power  to  make 
over  that  poor  girl  mind  and  body — I  might  almost 
say,  soul  too.  She  thinks  she  can  do  nothing  but 
household  drudgery.  She  is  afraid  of  everything. 
When  I  think  of  what  you  could  do  for  her  in  the 
next  month — Olga,  I  wonder  that  you  can  let  such  a 
wonderful  opportunity  pass  you  by." 

They  went  the  rest  of  the  way  mostly  in  silence. 
When  they  returned  to  the  camp,  Elizabeth  was  watch- 
ing for  them,  but  the  glance  Olga  gave  her  was  so 
repellent  that  she  shrank  away,  and  went  off  alone  to 
the  Lookout.  Later  Laura  tried  to  interest  Elizabeth 
in  the  making  of  a  headband  of  beadwork,  but  though 
she  evidently  liked  to  handle  the  bright-coloured  beads, 
she  would  not  try  to  do  the  work  herself. 

"  I  can't.  I  can't  do  things  like  that,"  she  said  with 
gentle  indifference,  her  eyes  wandering  off  in  search 
of  Olga. 

The  next  day,  however,  Laura  came  to  Anne  Went- 
worth,  her  eyes  shining.  "  O  Anne,  what  do  you 
think?"  she  cried.  "Olga  had  Elizabeth  in  wading 
this  morning.     Isn't  that  fine?" 

"  Fine  indeed — for  a  beginning.  It  shows  what 
Olga  might  do  with  her  if  she  would." 

"  Yes,  for  she  was  so  cross  with  her !  I  wondered 
that  Elizabeth  did  not  go  away  and  leave  her.  No 
other  girl  in  camp  would  let  Olga  speak  to  her  as  she 
speaks  to  that  Poor  Thing." 

"  No,  the  others  are  not  Poor  Things,  you  see — 
that  makes  all  the  difference.  But  that  Olga  should 
take  the  trouble  to  make  Elizabeth  do  anything  is  a 
big  step  in  advance — for  Olga." 


52  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  There  is  splendid  material  in  Olga,  Anne — I  am 
sure  of  it,"  Laura  returned. 

There  was  splendid  persistence  in  her,  anyhow.  She 
had  undertaken  to  overcome  Elizabeth's  fear  of  the 
water,  but  it  was  a  harder  task  than  she  had  imagined. 
She  did  make  the  Poor  Thing  wade — clinging  tightly 
to  Olga's  fingers  all  the  time — but  further  than  that 
she  could  not  lead  her.  Day  after  day  Elizabeth 
would  stand  shivering  and  trembling  in  water  up  to 
her  knees,  her  cheeks  so  white  and  her  lips  so  blue  that 
Olga  dared  not  compel  her  to  go  further.  Yet  day 
after  day  Olga  made  her  wade  in  that  far  at  least; 
not  once  would  she  allow  her  to  omit  it. 

One  day  she  sat  for  a  long  time  looking  gravely  at 
the  Poor  Thing,  who  flushed  and  paled  nervously  un- 
der that  steady  silent  scrutiny.  At  last  Olga  said 
abruptly,  "  What  do  you  like  best,  Elizabeth  ? " 

"  Like — best "     Elizabeth  faltered  uncertainly. 

Olga  frowned  and  repeated  her  question. 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head  slowly.  "  I — I  like  Molly. 
And  the  other  children — a  little." 

"  You  mean  your  brothers  and  sisters  ?  " 

Elizabeth  nodded. 

"Which  is  Molly?" 

"  The  littlest  one.  She's  four,  and  she's  real 
pretty,"  Elizabeth  declared  proudly.  "  She's  prettier 
than  Annie  Pearson." 

"Yes,  but  what  do  you  yourself  like?"  Olga  per- 
sisted. "  What  would  you  like  to  have — pretty  dresses, 
ribbons — what  ?  " 

"  I — I  never  thought,"  was  the  vague  reply. 

Again  Olga's  brows  met  in  a  frown  that  made  the 


THE  POOR  THING  53 

Poor  Thing  shrink  and  tremble.  She  brought  out  her 
necklace  and  tossed  it  into  the  other  girl's  lap. 

"Think  that's  pretty?"  she  asked. 

"  O  yes! "  Elizabeth  breathed  softly.  She  did  not 
touch  the  necklace,  but  gazed  admiringly  at  the  bright- 
coloured  beads  as  they  lay  in  her  lap. 

"  You  can  have  one  like  it  if  you  want,"  Olga  told 
her. 

"Ono!    Who'd  give  me  one  ?  " 

"  Nobody.  But  you  can  get  it  for  yourself.  See 
here — I  got  all  those  blue  beads  by  learning  about  the 
wild  flowers  that  grow  right  around  here,  the  weeds 
and  stones  and  animals  and  birds.  You  can  get  as 
many  in  a  few  days.  I  got  that  green  one  for  making 
a  little  bit  of  a  basket,  that — for  making  my  wash- 
stand  there  out  of  a  soap  box — that,  for  trimming  my 
hat.  Every  bead  on  that  necklace  is  there  because  of 
some  little  thing  I  did  or  made — all  things  that  you 
can  do  too." 

The  Poor  Thing  shook  her  head.  "  O  no,"  she 
stammered  in  her  weak  gentle  voice,  "  /  can't  do  any- 
thing.   I — I  ain't  like  other  girls." 

"  You  can  be  if  you  want  to,"  Olga  flung  out  at  her 
impatiently.  "  Say — what  can  you  do  ?  You  can  do 
something." 

"  No — nothing."  The  Poor  Thing's  blue  eyes  filled 
slowly  with  big  tears,  and  she  looked  through  them 
beseechingly  at  the  other.  Olga  drew  a  long  exasper- 
ated breath.  She  wanted  to  take  hold  of  the  girl's 
thin  shoulders  and  shake  the  limpness  out  of  her  once 
for  all. 

"  What  did  you  do  at  home  ?  "  she  demanded  with 
harsh  abruptness. 


54  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  N — nothing,"  Elizabeth  answered  with  a  miser- 
able gulp. 

"You  did  too!  Of  course  you  did  something," 
Olga  flamed.  "  You  didn't  sit  and  stare  at  Molly  and 
the  others  all  day  the  way  you  stare  at  me,  did  you? 
What  did  you  do,  I  say?" 

Elizabeth  gave  her  a  swift  scared  glance  as  she 
stammered,  "  I  didn't  do  anything  but  cook  and  sweep 
and  wash  and  iron  and  take  care  of  the  children — 
truly  I  didn't." 

Olga's  face  brightened.  "  Good  heavens — if  you 
aren't  the  limit !  "  she  shrugged.  Then  she  sprang 
up  and  got  pencil  and  paper.  "  What  can  you  cook?  " 
she  demanded,  and  proceeded  to  put  Elizabeth  through 
a  rapid-fire  examination  on  marketing,  plain  cooking, 
washing,  ironing,  sweeping,  bed-making,  and  care  of 
babies.  At  last  she  had  found  some  things  that  even 
the  Poor  Thing  could  do.  With  flying  fingers  she 
scribbled  down  the  girl's  answers.  Finally  she  cried 
exultingly,  "  There!  See  what  a  goose  you  were  to 
say  you  couldn't  do  anything!  Why,  there  are  lots  of 
girls  here  who  couldn't  do  half  these  things.  Elizabeth 
Page,  listen.  You've  got  twelve  orange  beads  like 
those,"  she  pointed  to  the  necklace — "  already,  for  a 
beginning.  That's  more  than  I  have  of  that  colour. 
I  don't  know  anything  about  taking  care  of  ba- 
bies, nor  half  what  you  do  about  cooking  and  mar- 
keting." 

Elizabeth  stared,  her  mouth  half  open,  her  eyes 
widened  in  incredulous  wonder.  "  But — but,"  she 
faltered,  "  I  guess  there's  some  mistake.  Just  house- 
work and  things  like  that  ain't  anything  to  get  beads 
for — are  they  ?  " 


THE  POOR  THING  55 

"They  are  that!  I  tell  you  Mrs.  Royall  will  give 
you  twelve  honours  and  twelve  yellow  beads  at  the 
next  Council  Fire,  and  if  you  half  try  you  can  win 
some  blue  and  brown  and  red  ones  too  before  that,  and 
you've  just  got  to  do  it.    Do  you  understand?" 

The  other  nodded,  her  eyes  full  of  dumb  misery. 
Then  she  began  to  whimper,  "  I — I — can't  ever  do 
things  like  you  and  the  rest  do,"  she  moaned. 

"  Why  not  ?    You  can  walk,  can't  you  ?  " 

"W— walk?" 

"Yes — walk!  Didn't  hurt  you  to  walk  to  the  vil- 
lage yesterday,  did  it  ?  " 

"  No — but  I  couldn't  go — alone." 

"  Who  said  anything  about  going  alone  ?  You'll 
walk  to  Slabtown  and  back  with  me  to-morrow." 

"  O,  I'd  like  that — with  you,"  said  the  Poor  Thing, 
brightening. 

Olga  gave  an  impatient  sniff.  Sometimes  she  almost 
hated  Elizabeth — almost  but  not  quite. 

"  You'll  go  with  me  to-morrow,"  she  declared,  "  but 
next  day  you'll  go  with  some  other  girl." 

Elizabeth  shrank  into  herself,  shaking  her  head. 

Olga  eyed  her  sternly.  "  Very  well — if  you  won't 
go  with  some  other  girl,  you  can't  go  with  me  to-mor- 
row," she  declared. 

But  the  next  day  after  breakfast  the  two  set  off 
for  Slabtown.  Halfway  there,  Elizabeth  suddenly 
crumpled  up  and  dropped  in  a  limp  heap  by  the  road- 
side. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Olga  demanded,  standing 
over  her. 

Elizabeth  lifted  tired  eyes.  "  I  don't  know.  You 
walked  so — fast,"  she  panted. 


56  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Fast !  "  echoed  Olga  scornfully ;  but  she  sat  on  a 
stone  wall  and  waited  until  a  little  colour  had  crept 
back  into  the  other  girl's  thin  cheeks,  and  went  at  a 
slower  pace  afterwards. 

"  There !  Do  that  every  day  for  a  week  and  you'll 
have  one  of  your  red  beads,"  was  her  comment  when 
they  were  back  at  camp.  "  And  now  go  lie  in  that 
hammock." 

When  from  the  kitchen  she  brought  a  glass  of  milk 
and  some  crackers,  she  found  Elizabeth  sitting  on  the 
ground. 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  into  the  hammock  as  I  told 
you  ?  "  she  demanded,  and  the  Poor  Thing  answered 
vaguely  that  she  "  thought  maybe  they  wouldn't  want  " 
her  to. 

Olga  poked  the  milk  at  her.  "  Drink  it !  "  she  or- 
dered, "  and  eat  those  crackers,"  and  when  Elizabeth 
had  obeyed,  added,  "  Now  get  into  that  hammock  and 
lie  there  till  dinner-time,"  and  meekly  Elizabeth  did  so. 

When,  later  in  the  day,  some  of  the  younger  girls 
started  a  game  of  blindman's  buff,  Olga  seized  Eliza- 
beth's hand.  "  Come,"  she  said,  "  we're  going  to  play 
too." 

"  O,  I  can't !  I — I  never  did,"  cried  the  Poor  Thing, 
hanging  back. 

"  I  never  did  either,  but  I'm  going  to  now  and  so 
are  you.  Come !  "  and  Elizabeth  yielded  to  the  im- 
perative command. 

The  other  girls  stared  in  amazement  as  the  two 
joined  them.  It  was  little  Bess  Carroll  who  smiled  a 
welcome  as  Louise  Johnson  cried  out, 

"  Wonders  will  never  cease — Olga  Priest  playing 
a  game!" 


THE  POOR  THING  57 

She  spoke  to  Mary  Hastings,  who  answered  hastily, 
"  Bless  her  heart — she's  doing  it  just  to  get  that  Poof 
Thing  to  play.    Let's  take  them  right  in,  girls." 

The  girls  were  quick  to  respond.  Olga  was  the 
next  one  caught,  and  when  she  was  blinded  she 
couldn't  help  catching  Elizabeth,  who  stood  still,  never 
thinking  of  getting  out  of  the  way.  Elizabeth  didn't 
want  the  handkerchief  tied  over  her  eyes,  but  she 
submitted  meekly,  at  a  look  from  Olga.  Half  a 
dozen  girls  flung  themselves  in  her  way,  and  the  one 
on  whom  her  limp  grasp  fell  ignored  the  fact  that 
Elizabeth  could  not  name  her,  and  gaily  held  up  the 
handkerchief  to  be  tied  over  her  own  eyes  in  turn. 
Nobody  caught  Olga  again.  She  was  as  quick  as  a 
flash  and  as  slippery  as  an  eel.  Elizabeth's  eyes  fol- 
lowed her  constantly,  and  a  little  glimmer  of  a  smile 
touched  her  lips  as  Olga  slipped  safely  out  of  reach 
of  one  catcher  after  another. 

When  she  pulled  Elizabeth  out  of  the  noisy  merry 
circle,  Olga  glanced  at  the  clock  in  the  dining-room 
and  made  a  swift  calculation.  "  Three-quarters  of  an 
hour — blindman's  buff." 

"  We've  got  to  play  at  some  game  every  day,  Eliza- 
beth," she  announced,  with  grim  determination.  She 
hated  games,  but  Elizabeth  must  win  her  red  beads  and 
the  red  blood  for  which  they  stood.  She  had  under- 
taken to  make  something  out  of  this  jellyfish  of  a  girl 
and  she  did  not  mean  to  fail.  That  was  all  there  was 
about  it.  So  every  day  she  led  forth  the  reluctant 
Elizabeth  and  patiently  stood  over  her  while  she  blun- 
dered through  a  game  of  basket-ball,  hockey,  prisoner's 
base,  or  whatever  the  girls  were  playing.  But  Eliza- 
beth made  small  progress.     Always  she  barely  stum- 


58  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

bled  through  her  part,  helped  in  every  way  by  Olga 
and  often  by  other  girls  who  helped  her  for  Olga's 
sake. 

It  was  Mary  Hastings  who  broke  out  earnestly  one 
day,  looking  after  the  two  going  down  the  road,  "  I 
say,  girls,  we're  just  a  lot  of  selfish  pigs  to  leave  that 
Poor  Thing  on  Olga's  hands  all  the  time.  It  must  be 
misery  to  her  to  have  Elizabeth  hanging  on  to  her 
as  she  does — a  dead  weight." 

"  Right  you  are !  I  should  think  she'd  hate  the  Poor 
Thing — I  should.  I  should  take  her  down  to  the 
dock  some  night  and  drown  her,"  said  Louise  John- 
son with  her  inevitable  giggle. 

"  I  think  Olga  deserves  all  the  honours  there  are 
for  the  way  she  endures  that — jellyfish,"  said  Edith 
Rue. 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  thaw  out  the  way  Olga  has 
lately  though.  She  really  deigns  to  speak  amiably 
now — sometimes,"  Annie  Pearson  put  in  with  a  sniff. 

"  She  '  deigns  '  to  do  anything  under  the  sun  that 
will  help  that  Poor  Thing  to  be  a  bit  like  other  girls," 
cried  Mary.  "  Olga  is  splendid,  girls !  She  makes 
me  ashamed  of  myself  twenty  times  a  day.  Do  you 
realise  what  it  means?  She  is  trying  to  make  that 
Poor  Thing  live.  She  just  exists  now.  O,  we  must 
help  her — we  must — every  single  one  of  us !  " 

"  But  how,  Molly  ?  We're  willing  enough  to  help, 
but  we  don't  know  how.  Elizabeth  turns  her  back  on 
every  one  of  us  except  Olga — you  know  she  does." 

"  I  know,"  Mary  admitted,  "  but  if  we  really  try  we 
can  find  ways  to  help." 

When,  compelled  by  Olga's  unyielding  determina- 
tion, the  Poor  Thing  had  taken  a  three-mile  tramp 


THE  POOR  THING  59 

every  day  for  a  week,  she  began  to  enjoy  it,  and  did 
not  object  when  another  mile  was  added.  She  was 
always  happy  when  she  was  with  Olga,  but  at  other 
times — when  they  were  not  walking — her  content  was 
marred  by  the  consciousness  that  Olga  was  not  really 
pleased  with  her  because  she  could  not  do  so  many 
things  that  the  other  wanted  her  to  do — like  bead- 
work  and  basketwork,  and  above  all,  swimming.  But 
Olga  was  pleased  with  her  when  she  went  willingly 
on  these  daily  tramps. 

The  Poor  Thing  seemed  to  find  something  particu- 
larly attractive  about  the  Slabtown  settlement,  and 
liked  better  to  go  in  that  direction  than  any  other. 
She  would  often  stop  and  watch  the  dirty  half-naked 
babies  playing  in  the  bare  yards ;  and  as  she  watched 
them  there  would  come  into  her  face  a  look  that  Olga 
could  not  understand — Olga,  who  had  never  had  a  baby 
sister  to  love  and  cuddle. 

One  day  when  the  two  approached  the  little  settle- 
ment, they  saw  half  a  dozen  boys  and  girls  walking 
along  the  top  of  a  stone- wall  that  bordered  the  road. 
A  baby  girl — not  yet  three — was  begging  the  others  to 
help  her  up,  but  they  refused. 

"  You  can't  get  up  here,  Polly  John — you're  too  lit- 
tle !  "  the  boys  shouted  at  her.  But  evidently  Polly 
John  had  a  will  of  her  own,  for  she  made  such  an 
outcry  that  at  last  her  sister  exclaimed,  "  We've  got 
to  take  her  up — she'll  yell  till  we  do,"  and  to  the  baby 
she  cried,  "  Now  you  hush  up,  Polly,  an'  ketch  hold  o' 
my  hand." 

The  baby  held  up  her  hand  and  with  a  jerk  she  was 
pulled  to  the  top  of  the  wall,  but  by  no  means  did 
she    "  hush    up."      She    writhed    and    twisted    and 


60  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

screamed,  but  there  was  a  difference  now — a  note  of 
pain  and  terror  in  the  shrill  cries. 

"  What  ails  her?  What's  she  yellin'  for  now?  "  one 
boy  demanded,  and  another  shouted,  "  Take  her 
down,  Peggy.    You  get  down  with  her." 

"  I  won't,  either !  "  Peggy  retorted  angrily,  but  she 
was  sitting  on  the  wall  now,  holding  the  baby  half 
impatiently,  half  anxiously. 

"  Look  at  her  arm.  What  makes  her  stick  it  out 
like  that  ?  "  one  boy  questioned. 

The  big  sister  took  hold  of  the  small  arm,  but  at 
her  touch  the  baby's  cries  redoubled,  and  a  woman 
put  her  head  out  of  a  window  and  sharply  demanded 
what  they  were  doing  to  that  child  anyhow. 

It  was  then  that  the  Poor  Thing  suddenly  darted 
across  the  road  and  caught  the  wailing  child  from  the 
arms  of  her  astonished  sister. 

"  O,  don't  touch  her  arm !  "  Elizabeth  cried.  "  Don't 
you  see?  It's  hurting  her  dreadfully.  You  slipped 
it  out  of  joint  when  you  pulled  her  up  there." 

"  I  didn't,  either !  Much  you  know  about  it !  "  the 
older  girl  flashed  back,  sticking  out  her  tongue.  But 
the  fear  in  her  eyes  belied  her  impudence. 

"Where's  her  mother?"  Elizabeth  demanded. 

"  She  ain't  got  none,"  chorused  all  the  children. 

Several  women  now  came  hurrying  out  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  One  of  them  held  out  her  arms  to 
the  child,  but  she  hid  her  face  on  Elizabeth's  shoulder, 
and  still  kept  up  her  frightened  wailing. 

"  How  d'ye  know  her  arm's  out  o'  joint?"  one  of 
the  women  demanded  when  Peggy  had  repeated  what 
Elizabeth  had  said. 

"  I  do  know  because  I  pulled  my  little  sister's  arm 


THE  POOR  THING  61 

out  just  that  way  once,  lifting  her  over  a  crossing. 
O,  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  slip  it  in  again !  It  wouldn't 
take  a  minute  if  we  only  knew  how.  Now  we  must 
get  her  to  a  doctor — quick.  It  is  hurting  her  dread- 
fully, you  know — that's  why  she  keeps  crying  so !  " 

"  A  doctor !  Ain't  no  doctor  nearer'n  East  Bas- 
sett,"  one  woman  said. 

"  East  Bassett !  Then  we  must  take  her  there," 
Elizabeth  said  to  Olga,  who  for  once  stood  by  silent 
and  helpless. 

"  We  can  get  her  there  in  twenty  minutes — maybe 
fifteen  if  we  walk  fast,"  she  said. 

"  Then" — Elizabeth  questioned  the  women — "  can 
any  of  you  take  her  there?" 

The  women  exchanged  glances.  "  It's  'most  dinner 
time — my  man  will  be  home,"  said  one.  The  others 
all  had  excuses;  no  one  offered  to  take  the  child  to 
East  Bassett.  No  one  really  believed  in  the  necessity. 
What  did  this  white-faced  slip  of  a  girl  know  about 
children,  anyhow? 

"Then  I'll  take  her  myself,"  the  Poor  Thing  de- 
clared.   "  I  guess  I  can  carry  her  that  far." 

"  An'  who'll  bring  her  back  ?  "  demanded  the  child's 
sister  gloomily. 

"  You  must  come  with  me  .and  bring  her  back," 
Elizabeth  answered  with  decision.  "  Come  quick !  I 
tell  you  it's  hurting  her  awfully.  Don't  you  see  how 
white  she  is  ?  " 

Peggy  looked  at  the  little  face  all  white  and  drawn 
with  pain,  and  surrendered. 

"  I'll  go,"  she  said  meekly,  and  without  more  words, 
Elizabeth  set  off  with  the  child  in  her  arms.  Olga 
followed  in  silence,  and  Peggy  trailed  along  in  the 


62  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

rear,  but  as  she  went  she  turned  and  shouted  back  to 
one  of  the  boys,  "  Jimmy,  you  come  along  too  with  the 
wagon  to  bring  her  home  in,"  and  presently  a  freckled- 
faced  boy,  with  straw-coloured  hair,  had  joined  the 
procession.  The  wagon  he  drew  was  a  soapbox  fitted 
with  a  pair  of  wheels  from  a  go-cart. 

"  Let  me  carry  her,  Elizabeth — she's  too  heavy  for 
you,"  Olga  said  after  a  few  minutes ;  but  the  child 
clung  to  Elizabeth,  refusing  to  be  transferred,  and  at 
the  pressure  of  the  little  yellow  head  against  her 
shoulder,  Elizabeth  smiled. 

"  I  can  carry  her,"  she  said.  "  She's  not  so  very 
heavy.    She  makes  me  think  of  little  Molly." 

So  Elizabeth  carried  the  child  all  the  way,  and  held 
her  still  when  they  reached  East  Bassett  and  by  rare 
good  luck  found  the  doctor  at  home.  He  was  an  old 
man,  and  over  his  glasses  he  looked  up  with  a  twinkle 
of  amusement  as  the  party  of  five  trailed  into  his 
office.     But  the  next  instant  he  demanded  abruptly, 

"What  ails  that  child?" 

"  It's  her  arm — see  ?  "  Elizabeth  said.  "  It's  out  of 
joint." 

"  Yes !  "  The  doctor  snapped  out  the  word.  Then 
his  hands  were  on  the  baby's  shoulder,  there  was  a 
quick  skilful  twist,  a  shriek  of  pain  and  terror  from  the 
baby,  and  the  bone  slipped  into  place. 

"  There,  that's  all  right.  She's  crying  now  only  be- 
cause she's  frightened,"  the  doctor  said,  snapping  his 
fingers  at  the  child.    "  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

Elizabeth  explained. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you'll  know  better  than  to  lift  a  baby 
by  the  arm  another  time,"  the  doctor  said,  with  a  kindly 
smile  into  Elizabeth's  tired  face.    "  Is  it  your  sister  ?  " 


THE  POOR  THING  63 

"  No — hers."  Elizabeth  indicated  Peggy,  who 
twisted  her  bare  feet  nervously  one  over  the  other  as 
the  doctor  looked  her  over.  "  They  live  at  Slabtown," 
Elizabeth  added. 

"O — at  Slabtown.    And  where  do  you  live?" 

"  I'm — we,"  Elizabeth's  gesture  included  Olga,  "  we 
are  at  the  camp." 

"  And  how  came  you  mixed  up  in  this  business  ?  " 
The  doctor  meant  to  know  all  about  the  affair  now. 
When  Elizabeth  had  told  him,  he  looked  at  her  cu- 
riously. "  And  so  you  lugged  that  heavy  child  all  the 
way  down  here  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Olga  wanted  to  carry  her,  but  the  baby  wouldn't 
let  her — and  she  was  crying,  so — — "  Elizabeth's  voice 
trailed  off  into  silence. 

The  doctor  smiled  at  her  again.  Then  suddenly  he 
inquired  in  a  gruff  voice,  "  Well  now,  who's  going  to 
pay  me  for  this  job — you  ?  " 

"  O ! "  cried  Elizabeth,  her  eyes  suddenly  very 
anxious.  "  I — I  never  thought  of  that.  It  was  hurt- 
ing her  so— and  she's  so  little — I  just  thought- 
thought "    Again  she  left  her  sentence  unfinished. 

"  What's  her  name  ?  Who's  her  father  ?  "  the  doctor 
demanded. 

Peggy  answered,  "  Father's  Jim  Johnson.  I  guess 
mebbe  he'll  pay  you — sometime." 

The  doctor's  face  changed.  He  remembered  when 
Jim  Johnson's  wife  died  a  year  before — he  remem- 
bered the  three  children  now. 

"  There's  nothing  to  pay,"  he  said  kindly,  "  only  be 
careful  how  you  pull  your  little  sister  around  by  the 
arms  after  this.  Some  children  can  stand  that  sort  of 
handling,  but  she  can't." 


64  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  O,  thank  you !  "  Elizabeth's  eyes  full  of  gratitude 
were  lifted  to  the  old  doctor's  face  as  she  spoke.  He 
rose,  and  looking  down  at  her,  laid  a  kindly  hand  on 
her  shoulder. 

"  That  camp's  a  good  place  for  you.  Stay  there  as 
long  as  you  can,"  he  said.  "  But  don't  lug  a  three- 
year-old  a  mile  and  a  half  again.  You  are  hardly 
strong  enough  yet  for  that  kind  of  athletics." 

They  all  filed  out  then,  and  Elizabeth  put  little 
Polly  John  into  the  soapbox  wagon,  kissed  the  small 
face,  dirty  and  tear-stained  as  it  was,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  after  the  three  children  as  they  set 
off  towards  Slabtown. 

As  they  went  on  to  the  camp,  Olga  kept  glancing  at 
Elizabeth  in  silent  wonder.  Was  this  really  the  Poor 
Thing  who  could  not  do  anything — who  would  barely 
answer  "  yes  "  or  "  no  "  when  any  one  spoke  to  her? 
Olga  watched  her  in  puzzled  silence. 


WIND  AND  WEATHER 

OLGA,  sitting  under  a  big  oak,  was  embroidering 
her  ceremonial  dress,  and,  as  usual,  Elizabeth 
sat  near,  watching  her  as  she  worked.  Olga 
did  it  as  she  did  most  things,  with  taste  and  skill,  but 
she  listened  indifferently  when  Laura  Haven,  stop- 
ping beside  her,  spoke  admiringly  of  the  work. 

"  I  wouldn't  waste  time  over  it  if  I  hadn't  prom- 
ised Miss  Grandis  to  embroider  it.  She  gave  us  all 
the  stuff,  you  know,"  Olga  explained. 

"It  isn't  wasting  time  to  make  things  beautiful," 
Laura  replied.  "  That  is  part  of  our  law,  you  know, 
to  seek  beauty,  and  wherever  possible,  create  it."  She 
looked  at  Elizabeth  and  added,  "  You'll  be  learning 
by-and-by  to  do  such  work." 

There  was  no  response  from  the  Poor  Thing,  only 
the  usual  shrinking  gesture  and  eyes  down-dropped. 
Acting  on  a  sudden  impulse,  Laura  spoke  again. 
"  Elizabeth,  the  cook  is  short  of  helpers  this  morning, 
and  I've  volunteered  to  shell  peas.  There's  a  big  lot 
of  them  to  do.  I  wonder  if  you  would  be  willing  to 
help  me." 

To  her  surprise  Elizabeth  rose  at  once  with  a  nod. 
"  Olga  will  be  glad  to  have  her  away  for  a  little 
while,"  Laura  was  thinking  as  they  went  over  to  the 
kitchen. 

It  certainly  was  a  big  lot  of  peas.  Forty  girls,  living 
65 


66  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

and  sleeping  in  the  open,  develop  famous  appetites, 
and  the  "  telephone  "  peas  were  delicious.  But  as  the 
two  worked,  the  great  pile  of  pods  grew  steadily 
smaller,  and  finally  Laura  looked  at  Elizabeth  with  a 
laugh.  "  I've  been  trying  my  best,  but  I  can't  keep 
up  with  you,"  she  said.  "  How  do  you  shell  them  so 
fast,  Elizabeth?" 

A  wee  ghost  of  a  smile — the  first  Laura  had  ever 
seen  there — fluttered  over  the  girl's  face.  "  I'm  used 
to  this  kind  of  work.  You  have  to  do  it  fast  when 
you're  cookin'  for  eight,"  she  explained  simply. 

"  And  you  have  cooked  for  eight  ?  "  Laura  ques- 
tioned, and  added  to  herself,  "  No  wonder  you  look 
like  a  ghost  of  a  girl." 

Elizabeth  nodded.  Laura  could  not  induce  her  to 
talk,  but  still  she  felt  that  somehow  she  had  pene- 
trated a  little  way  into  the  shell  of  silence  and  reserve. 
As  they  went  back  across  the  camp,  she  dropped  her 
arm  over  Elizabeth's  shoulders,  and  said, 

"You're  a  splendid  helper,  Elizabeth.  May  I  call 
on  you  the  next  time  I  need  any  one  ?  " 

Another  silent  nod,  and  then  the  girl  slipped  back 
into  her  place  beside  Olga. 

"  Then  I  will — and  thank  you,"  Laura  returned  as 
she  passed  on.  Olga  glanced  after  her  with  something 
odd  and  inscrutable  in  her  dark  eyes,  and  there  was  a 
question  in  the  look  with  which  she  searched  the  face 
of  Elizabeth.  But  she  did  not  put  the  question  into 
words. 

Afterwards  Laura  spoke  to  her  friend  of  the  Poor 
Thing  with  a  new  hopefulness,  telling  how  willingly 
she  had  helped  with  the  peas. 

"  You  know  I've  tried  in  vain  to  get  her  to  do  other 


WIND  AND  WEATHER  67 

things,  but  this  time  she  was  so  quick  to  respond !  I'm 
almost  afraid  to  hope,  but  maybe  I've  had  an  inspira- 
tion. I  must  try  the  child  again  though  before  I  can 
feel  at  all  sure." 

She  made  her  second  trial  the  next  day,  when  she 
sent  Bessie  Carroll  to  ask  Elizabeth  to  help  her  with 
the  dishes.  "  It's  my  day  to  work  in  the  kitchen," 
Bessie  told  her,  "  and  Miss  Laura  thought  you  might 
be  willing  to  help  me.  Most  of  the  girls,  you  know, 
hate  the  kitchen  work.    You  don't,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  like  to  help,"  replied  Elizabeth  promptly. 

"  I  like  Elizabeth !  "  Bessie  confided  to  Laura  that 
night.  "  Before,  I've  tried  to  get  her  into  things  be- 
cause she  seemed  so  lonesome  and  '  out  of  it,'  don't 
you  know  ?  But  I  like  her  now,  she  was  so  willing  to 
help  me  to-day.  I  thought  she  was  awfully  slow,  but 
she  was  quick  as  anybody  with  the  dishes." 

Then  Laura  felt  sure  she  had  found  the  key. 
"  Elizabeth  loves  to  help,"  she  told  Anne  Wentworth. 
"  '  Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  for- 
gotten, ' "  she  quoted.  "  Anne,  I  believe  that  that 
spirit  is  in  the  Poor  Thing — deep  down  in  the  starved 
little  heart  of  her — while  Olga — with  Olga  it  is  the 
other.  She  '  glorifies  work  '  because  '  through  work 
she  is  free.'  She  works  '  to  win,  to  conquer,  to  be 
master.'  She  works  '  for  the  joy  of  the  working.' 
That's  the  difference." 

Anne  nodded  gravely.  "  I  am  sure  you  are  right 
about  Olga.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  to  her 
'  Wohelo  means  work '  and  only  that." 

"  And  to  Elizabeth  it  means — or  will  mean — service, 
and  that  means,  underneath — love,"  said  Laura,  her 
voice  full  of  deep  feeling.    "  O  Anne,  I  so  long  to  help 


68  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

that  poor  child  to  get  some  of  the  beauty  and  joy  of  life 
into  her  little  neglected  soul !  " 

"  If  she  has  love,  she  has  the  best  thing  in  life 
already,"  Anne  reminded.  "  The  rest  will  come — in 
time." 

A  day  or  two  later  Laura  found  another  excuse  for 
asking  Elizabeth's  help,  and  as  before,  the  response 
was  quick,  and  again  Olga's  busy  ringers  paused  as 
she  looked  after  the  two,  and  quite  unconsciously  her 
dark  brows  came  together  in  a  frown.  Elizabeth  had 
gone  with  scarcely  a  glance  at  her.  A  week — two 
weeks  earlier,  she  would  have  hung  back  and  refused. 
Olga  shook  her  head  impatiently  as  she  resumed  her 
work,  and  wondered  why  she  was  dissatisfied  with 
Elizabeth  for  going  so  willingly.    Of  course  she  must 

do    what    her    Guardian    asked.      Nevertheless 

Olga  left  it  there. 

It  was  an  hour  before  Elizabeth  came  back,  and 
this  time  there  was  in  her  face  something  half  shy, 
half  exultant,  and  she  did  not  say  a  word  about  what 
Miss  Laura  had  wanted  her  for.  Olga  made  a  mental 
note  of  that,  but  she  was  far  too  proud  to  make  any 
inquiries. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast  Elizabeth  dis- 
appeared again,  and  this  time  too  it  was  fully  an  hour 
before  she  returned,  and  as  before  she  came  back  with 
a  shining  something  in  her  eyes — a  something  that 
changed  slowly  to  troubled  brooding  when  Olga  did 
not  look  at  her  or  speak  to  her  all  the  rest  of  the 
morning. 

When  the  third  day  it  was  the  same,  Olga  faced  the 
situation  in  stony  silence.  She  would  not  ask  why 
Elizabeth  went  or  where,  but  she  silently  resented  her 


WIND  AND  WEATHER  69 

going,  and  Elizabeth,  sensitively  conscious  of  her  re- 
sentment, after  that,  slipped  away  each  time  with  a 
wistful  backward  glance ;  and  when  she  returned,  there 
was  no  shining  radiance  in  her  eyes,  but  only  that  wist- 
ful pleading  which  Olga  coldly  ignored.  So  it  went  on 
day  after  day.  Olga  always  knew  where  Elizabeth 
was  except  for  that  one  hour  in  the  morning,  which 
was  never  mentioned  between  them.  The  other  times 
she  was  always  helping  some  one — darning  stockings 
for  Louise  Johnson — Elizabeth  knew  how  to  darn 
stockings — or  helping  little  Bessie  Carroll  hunt  for 
some  of  her  belongings,  which  she  was  always  losing, 
or  helping  Katie  the  cook,  who  declared  that  nobody 
in  camp  could  pare  potatoes  and  apples,  or  peel  toma- 
toes or  pick  over  berries  so  fast  as  the  Poor  Thing. 
There  was  not  a  day  now  that  some  one  did  not  call 
on  Elizabeth  for  something  like  this,  for  the  girls  had 
found  out  that  she  was  always  willing.  She  seemed  to 
take  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  that  she  should  be 
at  the  service  of  everybody.  But  Laura  noted  the  fact 
that  she  never  asked  anybody  to  help  her. 

Then  came  a  night  when  Mrs.  Royall  detained  the 
girls  for  a  moment  after  supper  in  the  dining-room. 

"I  think  we  are  going  to  have  a  heavy  storm,"  she 
said,  "  and  we  must  be  prepared  for  it.  Put  all  your 
belongings  under  cover  where  they  will  be  secure  from 
wind  and  rain.  I  should  advise  you  to  sleep  in  your 
gymnasium  suits — you  will  be  none  too  warm  in  this 
northeast  wind — and  have  your  rubber  blankets  and 
overshoes  handy.  Guardians  will  examine  all  tentpins 
and  ropes  and  see  that  everything  is  secure.  No  tent- 
sides  up  to-night,  of  course.  I  shall  have  a  fire  here, 
and  lanterns  burning  all  night ;  so  if  anything  is  needed 


TO  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

you  can  come  right  here.  Now  remember,  girls,  there 
is  nothing  to  be  afraid  of — and  Camp  Fire  Girls,  of 
course,  are  never  afraid.  That  is  all,  but  attend  to 
these  things  at  once,  and  as  it  is  too  chilly  to  stay 
out,  we  will  all  spend  the  evening  here." 

The  girls  scattered,  and  the  next  half-hour  was 
spent  in  making  everything  ready  for  stormy  weather. 
Only  Louise  Johnson,  her  mouth  full  of  mint  gum, 
gaily  protested  that  it  was  all  nonsense.  It  might 
rain,  of  course,  but  she  didn't  believe  there  was  going 
to  be  any  heavy  storm — in  August 

"  If  the  rest  of  you  want  to  bundle  up  in  your  gym. 
suits  you  can,  but  excuse  me!"  she  said.  "And  I 
can't  put  all  my  duds  under  cover." 

"  All  right,  Johnny,  you'll  have  nobody  but  yourself 
to  blame  if  you  find  your  things  soaked,  or  blown  into 
the  bay  before  morning,"  Mary  Hastings  told  her. 
"  I'm  going  to  obey  orders,"  and  she  hurried  over  to 
her  own  tent. 

The  evening  began  merrily  in  the  big  dining-room. 
The  canvas  sides  had  been  securely  fastened  down,  and 
a  splendid  wood  fire  blazed  in  the  wide  fireplace. 
Tables  were  piled  at  one  side  of  the  room,  and  the 
girls  played  games,  and  danced  to  the  music  of  two 
violins.  At  bedtime  Mrs.  Royall  served  hot  chocolate 
and  wafers,  and  then  the  girls  went  to  their  tents.  By 
that  time  the  sky  was  covered  with  a  murk  of  black 
clouds,  and  a  penetrating  wind  was  blowing  up  the 
bay  and  whistling  through  the  grove.  Extra  blankets 
had  been  put  over  the  cots  and  rubber  blankets  over 
all,  and  the  girls  were  quite  willing  to  pull  their  flannel 
gym.  suits  over  their  night  clothes,  and  found  them 
none  too  warm.     Even  Louise  Johnson  followed  the 


WIND  AND  WEATHER  71 

example  of  the  others.  "  Gee !  "  she  exclaimed  as 
she  tucked  the  extra  blanket  closely  around  her  shoul- 
ders, "  camping  out  isn't  all  it's  cracked  up  to  be — 
not  in  this  weather.    Isn't  that  thunder?  " 

It  was  thunder,  and  some  of  the  more  timid  girls 
heard  it  with  quaking  hearts.  But  it  was  distant,  low 
growling  thunder,  and  after  a  little  it  died  away.  The 
girls,  under  their  wool  coverings,  were  warm  and  com- 
fortable, and  their  laughter  and  chatter  ceased  as  they 
dropped  off  to  sleep. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  storm  spirits  had  maliciously 
waited  that  their  onset  might  be  the  more  effective, 
for  when  all  was  quiet,  and  everybody  in  camp  asleep, 
the  muttering  of  the  thunder  grew  louder,  lightning 
began  to  zigzag  across  the  black  cloud  masses,  and  the 
whistling  of  the  wind  deepened  to  a  steady  ominous 
growl.  Tent  ropes  creaked  under  the  strain  of  the 
heavy  blasts ;  trees  writhed  and  twisted,  and  the  rain 
came  in  gusts,  swift,  spiteful,  and  icy  cold.  In  the 
dining-room  Mrs.  Royall  awoke  from  a  light  doze  and 
piled  fresh  logs  on  the  fire.  Anne  and  Laura,  whom 
she  had  kept  with  her  in  case  their  help  might  be 
needed,  peered  anxiously  out  of  the  windows. 

"  Can't  see  a  thing  but  black  night  except  when  the 
flashes  come,"  Anne  said,  "  but  this  uproar  is  bound  to 
awaken  the  girls." 

"  And  some  of  them  are  sure  to  be  frightened," 
added  Mrs.  Royall. 

"  It  is  enough  to  frighten  them — all  this  tumult," 
Laura  said.    "  I  wish  we  could  get  them  all  in  here." 

"  I'd  have  kept  them  all  here  and  made  a  big  field 
bed  on  the  floor  if  I  had  thought  we  were  going  to  have 
such  a  storm  as  this,"  Mrs.   Royall  said  anxiously. 


72  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  If  it  doesn't  lessen  soon,  I  shall  take  a  lantern  and 
go  the  round  of  the  tents  to  see  if  all  is  right." 

As  she  spoke  there  came  a  loud  rattling  peal  of 
thunder,  followed  immediately  by  a  blinding  flash  of 
lightning  that  zigzagged  across  the  sky,  making  the 
dense  darkness  yet  blacker  by  contrast. 

It  was  then  that  Mary  Hastings,  sitting  up  in  bed, 
caught  a  glimpse,  in  the  glare  of  the  lightning,  of 
Annie  Pearson's  white  terrified  face  in  the  next  cot. 

"  O  Mary,  I'm  sc — scared  to  d — death !  "  Annie 
whimpered,  her  teeth  chattering  with  cold  and  terror. 

"  We  are  all  right  if  only  our  tent  doesn't  blow 
over,"  returned  Mary,  and  her  steady  voice  quieted 
Annie  for  the  moment.  "If  it  does,  we  must  make  a 
dive  for  the  dining-room.  Got  your  raincoats  and 
rubbers  handy,  girls  ?  " 

"  I'm  putting  mine  on,"  Olga's  voice  was  as  cool 
and  undisturbed  as  Mary's.  She  turned  towards  the 
next  cot  and  added,  "  Elizabeth,  you've  no  raincoat. 
Wrap  yourself  in  your  rubber  blanket  if  the  tent  goes." 

"  Ye — es,"  returned  Elizabeth,  with  a  little  fright- 
ened gasp. 

Under  the  bedclothes  Annie  Pearson  was  sobbing 
and  moaning,  "  O,  I  wish  I  was  home !  I  wish  I  was 
home ! " 

Mary  Hastings  spoke  sternly.  "  Annie  Pearson, 
if  you  don't  stop  that  whimpering  I'll  shake  you !  " 

Annie  subsided  into  sniffling  silence.  Outside  there 
was  a  lull,  and  after  a  moment,  Mary  added  hopefully, 
"  There,  I  guess  the  worst  is  over,  and  we're  all 
right." 

While  the  words  were  yet  on  her  lips,  the  storm 
leaped  up  like  a  giant  refreshed.    Rain  came  down  in 


WIND  AND  WEATHER  73 

a  deluge,  beating  through  tent-canvas  and  spraying, 
with  fine  mist,  the  faces  of  the  girls.  Another  vivid 
glare  of  lightning  was  followed  by  a  long,  loud  rattling 
peal  ending  in  a  terrific  crash  that  seemed  fairly  to  rend 
the  heavens,  while  the  wind  shook  the  tents  as  if  giant 
hands  were  trying  to  wrest  them  from  their  fastenings. 
Then  from  all  over  the  camp  arose  frightened  shrieks 
and  wails  and  cries,  but  Annie  Pearson  now  was  too 
terrified  to  utter  a  word.  The  next  moment  there  was 
a  loud,  ripping  tearing  sound,  and  as  fresh  cries  broke 
out,  Mrs.  Royall's  voice,  clear  and  steady,  rose  above 
the  tumult. 

"  Be  quiet,  girls,"  she  called.  "  One  tent  has  gone 
over,  but  nobody's  hurt.  Mary  Hastings,  slip  on  your 
coat  and  rubbers,  and  come  and  help  us — quick !  " 

"  I'm  coming,"  called  Mary  instantly,  and  directly 
she  was  out  in  the  storm.  Where  the  next  tent  had 
been,  nothing  but  the  wooden  flooring,  the  iron  cots, 
and  four  wooden  boxes  remained,  and  over  these  the 
rain  was  pouring  in  heavy,  blinding  sheets.  Mrs. 
Royall,  as  wet  as  if  she  had  just  come  out  of  the  bay, 
was  holding  up  a  lantern,  by  the  light  of  which  Mary 
caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  four  figures  in  dripping 
raincoats  scudding  towards  the  dining-room,  while  two 
others  followed  them  with  arms  full  of  wet  bedding. 

Mrs.  Royall  told  Mary  to  gather  up  the  bedding 
from  a  third  cot  and  carry  that  to  the  dining-room, 
"  And  you  take  the  rest  of  it,"  she  added  to  another 
girl,  who  had  followed  Mary.  "  And  stay  in  the  din- 
ing-room— both  of  you.  Don't  come  out  again.  Miss 
Anne  will  tell  you  what  to  do  there." 

She  held  the  lantern  high  until  the  girls  reached  the 
dining-room,  then  she  hurried  to  another  tent,  from 


74  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

which  came  a  hubbub  of  frightened  cries.  Pushing 
aside  the  canvas  curtain  she  stepped  inside  the  tent, 
and  holding  up  her  lantern,  looked  about  her.  The 
cries  and  excited  exclamations  ceased  at  the  sight  of 
her,  though  one  girl  could  not  control  her  nervous 
sobbing. 

"  What  is  the  matter  here  ?  Your  tent  hasn't  blown 
over.  What  are  you  crying  about,  Rose?"  Mrs. 
Royall  demanded. 

Rose  Anderson,  an  excitable  little  creature  of  fifteen, 
lifted  a  face  white  as  chalk.  "  O,"  she  sobbed,  "  some- 
thing came  in — right  up  on  my  bed.  It  was  big  and — 
and  furry — and  wet!  O  Mrs.  Royall,  I  never  was  so 
scared  in  my  life!  "  She  ended  with  a  burst  of  hys- 
terical sobbing. 

Mrs.  Royall  cast  a  swift  searching  glance  around  the 
tent,  then — wet  and  cold  and  worried  as  she  was,  her 
face  crinkled  into  sudden  laughter. 

"  Look,  Rose — over  there  on  that  box.  That  must 
be  the  wet,  furry  big  intruder  that  scared  you 
so!" 

Four  pairs  of  round  frightened  eyes  followed  her 
pointing  finger;  and  on  the  box  they  saw  a  half- 
grown  rabbit,  with  eyes  bulging  like  marbles  as  the 
little  creature  crouched  there  in  deadly  terror.  One 
glance,  and  three  of  the  girls  broke  into  shrieks  of 
nervous  laughter  in  which,  after  a  moment,  Rose 
joined.  And  having  begun  to  laugh  the  girls  kept  on, 
until  those  in  the  other  tents  began  to  wonder  if  some- 
body had  gone  crazy.  Mrs.  Royall  finally  had  to 
speak  sternly  to  put  an  end  to  the  hysterical  chorus. 

"  There,  there,  girls,  that  will  do — now  be  quiet ! 
Listen,  the  thunder  is  fainter  now,  and  the  lightning 


WIND  AND  WEATHER  75 

less  sharp.  I  think  the  wind  is  going  down  too.  Are 
any  of  you  wet?  " 

"  Only — only  Rose,  where  the  big  furry  thing " 

began  one,  and  at  that  a  fresh  peal  of  laughter  rang 
out.    But  Mrs.  Royall's  grave  face  silenced  it  quickly. 

"  Listen,  girls,"  she  repeated,  "  you  are  keeping  me 
here  when  I  am  needed  to  look  after  others.  I  can- 
not go  until  you  are  quiet.  I'll  take  this  half-drowned 
rabbit " — she  reached  over  and  picked  up  the  trem- 
bling little  creature — "with  me;  and  now  I  think  you 
can  go  to  sleep.  I  am  sure  the  worst  of  the  storm  is 
over." 

"  We  will  be  quiet,  Mrs.  Royall,"  Edith  Rue  prom- 
ised, her  lips  twitching  again  as  she  looked  at  the 
shivering  rabbit. 

"  And  I  hope  now  you  can  get  some  rest,"  another 
added,  and  then  Mrs.  Royall  dropped  the  curtain  and 
went  out  again  into  the  rain,  which  was  still  falling 
heavily.  All  the  other  tents  had  withstood  the  gale, 
and  when  Mrs.  Royall  had  looked  into  each  one,  an- 
swered the  eager  questions  of  the  girls,  and  assured 
them  that  no  one  was  hurt  and  the  worst  of  the  storm 
was  over,  she  hurried  back  to  the  dining-room.  There 
she  found  that  Anne  and  Laura  had  warmed  and  dried 
the  girls,  who  had  been  turned  out  of  their  tent,  given 
them  hot  milk,  and  made  up  dry  beds  for  them  on 
the  floor. 

"  They  are  warm  as  toast,"  Anne  assured  her. 

"  And  now  you  and  I  will  get  back  to  bed,  Eliza- 
beth," Mary  Hastings  said,  again  slipping  on  her  rain- 
coat, while  Laura  quietly  threw  her  own  over  the  other 
girl's  shoulders. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  Mrs.  Royall  ordered,  and  brought 


76  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

them  two  sandbags  hot  from  the  kitchen  oven.  "  You 
must  not  go  to  sleep  with  cold  feet.  And  thank  you 
both  for  your  help,"  she  added.  "  I'll  hold  the  lantern 
here  at  the  door  so  you  can  see  your  way."  But 
Laura  quietly  took  the  lantern  from  her,  and  held  it 
till  Mary  called,  "  All  right !  " 

"  Is  that  you,  Mary?  "  Olga's  quiet  voice  questioned, 
as  the  girls  entered  the  tent. 

"  Yes — Elizabeth  and  I.  The  excitement  is  all  over 
and  the  storm  will  be  soon.  Let's  all  get  to  sleep  as 
fast  as  we  can." 

"  Elizabeth !  "  Olga  repeated  to  herself.  She  had 
not  known  that  Elizabeth  had  left  her  cot.  "  Why 
did  you  go?"  she  asked  in  a  low  tone,  as  Elizabeth 
crept  under  the  blankets. 

"  Why — to  help,"  the  Poor  Thing  answered,  squeez- 
ing the  hand  that  touched  hers  in  the  darkness. 

The  storm  surely  was  lessening  now.  The  light- 
ning came  at  longer  intervals  and  the  thunder  lagged 
farther  and  farther  behind  it.  The  rain  still  fell,  but 
not  so  heavily,  and  the  roar  of  the  wind  had  died 
down  to  a  sullen  growl.  In  ten  minutes  the  other 
three  girls  were  sound  asleep,  but  Olga  lay  long 
awake,  her  eyes  searching  the  darkness,  as  her  thoughts 
searched  her  own  soul,  finding  there  some  things  that 
greatly  astonished  her. 


VI 

A  WATER  CURE 

THERE  were  some  pale  cheeks  and  heavy  eyes 
the  next  morning,  but  no  one  had  taken  cold 
from  the  exposure  of  the  night,  and  most  of 
the  girls  were  as  fresh  and  full  of  life  as  ever.  The 
camp,  however,  was  strewn  with  leaves  and  broken 
branches,  and  one  tree  was  uprooted.  Mrs.  Royall's 
face  was  grave  as  she  thought  of  what  might  have 
been,  had  that  tree  fallen  across  any  of  the  tents.  It 
was  a  heavy  responsibility  that  she  carried  with  these 
forty  girls  under  her  charge,  and  never  had  she  felt 
it  more  deeply  than  now. 

The  baby  bunny  was  evidently  somebody's  stray  pet, 
for  it  submitted  to  handling  as  if  used  to  it,  showed 
no  desire  to  get  away,  and  contentedly  nibbled  the 
lettuce  leaves  and  carrots  which  the  girls  begged  of 
Katie. 

"  He  fairly  purrs  when  I  scratch  his  head,"  Louise 
Johnson  declared  gaily.  "  Girls,  we  must  keep  him 
for  the  camp  mascot." 

"  Looks  as  if  we  should  have  to  keep  him  unless  a 
claimant  appears,"  Mary  Hastings  said.  "  I've  almost 
stepped  on  him  twice  already.  I  don't  believe  wTe  could 
drive  him  away  with  a  club." 

"  Nobody  wants  to  drive  him  away,"  retorted  Louise, 
lifting  him  by  his  long  ears,  "  unless  maybe  Rose," 
she  added,  with  a  teasing  glance  over  her  shoulder. 

77 


78  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  You  know  Rose  doesn't  care  for  big  furry- 
things." 

"  Well,  I  guess,"  protested  Rose,  "  if  he  had  flopped 
into  your  face  all  dripping  wet,  in  the  dark,  as  he 
did  into  mine  last  night,  you  wouldn't  have  stopped  to 
measure  him  before  you  yelled,  any  more  than  I  did. 
He  felt  as  big  as — a  wildcat,  so  there !  "  and  Rose 
turned  away  with  flushed  cheeks,  followed  by  shouts  of 
teasing  laughter. 

"  It's — too  bad.  I'd  have  been  scared  too,"  said  a 
low  voice,  and  Rose,  turning,  stared  in  amazement  at 
the  Poor  Thing — the  Poor  Thing — for  almost  the  first 
time  since  she  came  to  camp,  volunteering  a  remark. 

"Why — why,  you  Po — Elisabeth!"  Rose  stam- 
mered, and  then  suddenly  she  slipped  her  arm  around 
Elizabeth's  waist  and  drew  her  off  to  the  hammock 
behind  the  pines.  "  Come,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  about  it.  The  girls  are  all  laughing  at  me — es- 
pecially Louise  Johnson — but  it  wasn't  any  laughing 
matter  to  me  last  night.  I  was  scared  stiff — truly 
I  was !  "  She  poured  the  story  of  her  experiences  into 
the  other  girl's  ears.  The  fact  that  Elizabeth  said 
nothing  made  no  difference  to  Rose.  She  felt  the 
silent  sympathy  and  was  comforted.  When  she  had 
talked  herself  out,  Elizabeth  slipped  away  and  sought 
Olga,  but  Olga  was  nowhere  to  be  found — not  in  the 
camp  nor  on  the  beach,  but  one  of  the  boats  was 
missing,  and  at  last  a  girl  told  Elizabeth  that  she  had 
seen  Olga  go  off  alone  in  it.  That  meant  an  age  of 
anxious  watching  and  waiting  for  the  Poor  Thing. 
She  never  could  get  over  her  horror  of  the  treacherous 
blue  water.  To  her  it  was  a  great  restless  monster 
forever  reaching  out  after  some  living  thing  to  clutch 


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A  WATER  CURE  79 

and  drag  down  into  its  cruel  bosom.  It  was  agony  to 
her  to  see  Olga  swim  and  dive;  hardly  less  agony 
to  see  her  go  off  in  a  boat  or  canoe.  Always  Eliza- 
beth was  sure  that  this  time  she  would  not  come  back. 

She  had  put  on  her  bathing  suit,  for  Olga  still  made 
her  wade  every  morning,  and  she  wandered  forlornly 
along  the  beach,  and  finally  ventured  a  little  way  into 
the  water.  It  was  horrible  to  do  even  that  alone,  but 
she  had  promised,  and  she  must  do  it  even  if  Olga 
was  not  there  to  know.  A  troop  of  girls  in  bathing 
suits  came  racing  down  to  the  beach,  Anne  and  Laura 
following  them. 

"  What — who  is  that  standing  out  in  the  water  all 
alone  ? "  demanded  Anne  Wentworth,  who  was  a  little 
near-sighted. 

Annie  Pearson  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter.  "  It's 
that  Poor  Thing,"  she  cried.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such 
a  forlorn  figure  !  " 

"  Looks  like  a  sick  penguin,"  laughed  Louise  John- 
son. 

"  Why  in  the  world  is  she  standing  there  all  alone  ?  " 
cried  Laura,  and  hurried  on  ahead,  calling,  "  Elizabeth 
— Elizabeth,  come  here.    I  want  you." 

Elizabeth,  standing  in  water  up  to  her  ankles,  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment,  swept  the  wide  stretch  of  blue 
with  a  wistful  searching  glance,  and  then  obeyed  the 
summons. 

"  Why  were  you  standing  there,  dear?  "  Laura  ques- 
tioned gently,  leading  her  away  from  the  laughing 
curious  girls. 

Elizabeth  lifted  earnest  eyes  to  the  kind  face  bend- 
ing towards  her. 

"  I  promised  Olga  I'd  wade  every  day — so  I  had  to." 


80  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Then  she  broke  out,  "  O  Miss  Laura,  do  you  think 
she'll  come  back?  She  went  all  alone,  and  she  isn't 
anywhere  in  sight." 

Laura  drew  the  shivering  little  figure  close  to  her 
side.  "  Why,  of  course  she'll  come  back,  Elizabeth. 
Why  shouldn't  she?  She's  been  out  so  scores  of 
times,  just  as  I  have.  What  makes  you  worry  so, 
child?" 

Elizabeth  drew  a  long  shuddering  breath.  "  I  can't 
help  it,"  she  sighed.  "  The  water  always  makes  me  so 
afraid,  Miss  Laura !  " 

She  lifted  such  a  white  miserable  face  that  Laura 
saw  it  was  really  true — she  was  in  the  grip  of  a  deadly 
terror.  She  drew  the  trembling  girl  down  beside  her 
on  the  warm  sand.  "  Let's  sit  here  a  little  while," 
she  said,  and  for  a  few  minutes  they  sat  in  silence, 
while  further  up  the  beach  girls  were  wading  and 
swimming  and  splashing  each  other,  their  shouts  of 
laughter  making  a  merry  din.  Some  were  diving  from 
the  pier,  and  one  stood  on  a  high  springboard.  Sud- 
denly this  one  flung  out  her  arms  and  sprang  off,  her 
slim  body  seeming  to  float  between  sky  and  water,  as 
she  swept  downward  in  a  graceful  curving  line. 

Laura  caught  her  breath  nervously  as  her  eyes 
followed  the  slender  figure  that  looked  so  very  small 
outstretched  between  sky  and  water,  and  Elizabeth 
covered  her  eyes  with  a  little  moan. 

"  O,  I  wish  she  wouldn't  do  that — I  do  wish  she 
wouldn't !  "  she  said  under  her  breath. 

Laura  spoke  cheerfully.  "  She  is  all  right.  See, 
Elizabeth,  how  fast  she  is  swimming  now." 

But  Elizabeth  shook  her  head  and  would  not  look. 
Laura  put  her  arm  across  the  narrow  shrinking  shoul- 


A  WATER  CURE  81 

ders  and  after  a  moment  spoke  again,  slowly.  "  Eliza- 
beth, you  love  Olga,  don't  you  ?  " 

Elizabeth  looked  up  quickly.  She  did  not  answer — 
or  need  to. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  do,"  Laura  went  on,  answering 
the  look.  "  But  do  you  love  her  enough  to  do  some- 
thing very  hard — for  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Laura.  Tell  me  what.  She  won't  ever 
let  me  do  anything  for  her." 

"  It  will  be  very,  very  hard  for  you,"  Laura  warned 
her. 

The  girl  looked  at  her  silently,  and  waited. 

"  Elizabeth,  I  don't  think  you  could  do  anything 
else  that  would  please  her  so  much  as  to  conquer  your 
fear  of  the  water  for  her  sake.  Can  you  do  such  a 
hard  thing  as  that — for  Olga?" 

A  look  of  positive  agony  swept  over  Elizabeth's 
face.  "Anything  but  just  that,"  she  moaned.  "O 
Miss  Laura,  you  don't  know — you  can't  know  how  I 
hate  it — that  deep  black  water !  " 

"  But  can't  you — even  for  Olga  ?  "  Laura  questioned 
very  gently. 

Elizabeth  shook  her  head  and  two  big  tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks.  "  I  would  if  I  could.  I'd  do  any- 
thing, anything  else  for  her;  but  that — I  can't!"  she 
moaned. 

Laura  put  her  hand  under  the  trembling  chin,  and 
lifting  the  girl's  face  looked  deep  into  the  blue  eyes 
swimming  with  tears. 

"  Elizabeth,"  she  said  slowly,  a  world  of  love  and 
sympathy  in  her  voice,  "  Elizabeth,  you  can!  " 

In  that  long  deep  look  the  dread  and  horror  and 
misery  died  slowly  out  of  Elizabeth's  eyes,  and  a  faint 


82  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

incredulous  hope  began  to  grow  in  them.  It  was  as 
if  she  literally  drew  courage  and  determination  from 
the  eyes  looking  into  hers,  and  who  can  tell  what 
subtle  spirit  message  really  passed  from  the  strong 
soul  into  the  weaker  one  ? 

"  I  never,  never  could,"  Elizabeth  faltered ;  but 
Laura  caught  the  note  of  wavering  hope  in  the  low- 
spoken  words. 

"  Elizabeth,  you  can.  I  know  you  can,"  she  re- 
peated. 

"  How  ?  "  questioned  Elizabeth,  and  Laura  smiled 
and  drew  her  closer. 

"  You  are  afraid  of  the  water,"  she  said,  "  and  your 
fear  is  like  a  cord  that  binds  your  will  just  as  your 
arms  might  be  bound  to  your  sides  with  a  scarf.  But 
you  can  break  the  cord,  and  when  you  do,  you  will  not 
be  afraid  of  the  water  any  more.  Myra  Karr  was 
afraid  just  as  you  are — afraid  of  almost  everything, 
but  one  wonderful  day  she  conquered  her  fear.  Ask 
her  and  she  will  tell  you  about  it,  and  how  much  hap- 
pier she  has  been  ever  since,  as  you  will  be  when  you 
have  broken  your  cords.  And  just  think  how  it  will 
please  Olga !  " 

There  was  a  little  silence;  then  suddenly  Elizabeth 
leaned  forward,  eagerly  pointing  off  over  the  water. 
"  Is  it — is  she  coming?  "  she  whispered. 

"Yes,  she  is  coming.  Now  just  think  how  you 
have  suffered  worrying  over  her  this  morning,  and 
all  for  nothing." 

Elizabeth  drew  a  long  happy  breath.  "  I  don't  care 
now  she's  coming,"  she  said,  and  it  was  as  if  she  sang 
the  words. 

Laura  went  on,  "  Have  you  noticed,  Elizabeth,  how 


A  WATER  CURE  83 

different  Olga  is  from  the  other  girls?  She  never 
laughs  and  frolics.  She  never  really  enjoys  any  of 
the  games.  She  cares  for  nothing  but  work.  She 
hasn't  a  single  friend  in  the  camp — she  won't  have 
one.    I  don't  think  she  is  happy,  do  you  ?  " 

Elizabeth  considered  that  in  silence.  She  had 
known  these  things,  but  she  had  never  thought  of  them 
before. 

"  It's  so,"  she  admitted  finally,  her  eyes  on  the  ap- 
proaching boat. 

"  Elizabeth,  I  think  you  are  the  only  one  who  can 
really  help  Olga." 

"I?"  Elizabeth  lifted  wondering  eyes.  Then  she 
added  hastily,  "You  mean — going  in  the  water?" 
She  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

"  Yes,  dear,  if  you  will  let  Olga  help  you  to  get  rid 
of  your  fear  of  the  water,  it  will  mean  more  to  her 
even  than  to  you.  Olga  needs  you,  child,  more  than 
you  need  her,  for  you  have  many  friends  now  in  the 
camp,  and  she  has  only  you." 

"I  like  her  the  best  of  all,"  Elizabeth  declared 
loyally. 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  prove  it  to  her  before  you  can 
really  help  her,"  Laura  replied.  "  See,  she  is  almost 
in  now,  and  I  won't  keep  you  any  longer." 

Olga  secured  her  boat  to  a  ring  and  ran  lightly  up 
the  steps.  In  a  few  minutes  she  came  back  in  her 
bathing  suit.  As  she  ran  down  the  beach,  she  swept 
a  swift  searching  glance  over  the  few  girls  sitting  or 
lying  on  the  sand;  then  her  eyes  rested  on  a  little 
shrinking  figure  standing  like  a  small  blue  post,  knee 
deep  in  the  water.  It  was  Elizabeth,  her  cheeks 
colourless,  her  eyes  fixed  beseechingly,  imploringly,  on 


84  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Olga's  face.  In  a  flash  Olga  was  beside  her,  crying 
out  sharply, 

"  What  made  you  come  in  alone  ?  " 

"  I  p-promised  you "  Elizabeth  replied,  her  teeth 

chattering. 

"  Well,  you've  done  it,"  said  Olga.  "  Cut  out  now 
and  get  dressed." 

But  Elizabeth  stood  still  and  shook  her  head. 
"  No,"  though  her  lips  trembled,  her  voice  was  de- 
termined, "  no,  Olga,  I'm  going  up  to  my — my  neck 
to-day,"  and  she  held  out  her  hands. 

"You  are  not — you're  coming  out!"  Olga  de- 
clared.   "  You're  in  a  blue  funk  this  minute." 

"  I — know  it,"  gasped  Elizabeth,  "  but  I'm  going  in 
— alone — if  you  won't  go  with  me.  Quick,  Olga, 
quick !  "  she  implored. 

Some  instinct  stilled  the  remonstrance  on  Olga's 
lips.  She  grasped  Elizabeth  by  her  shoulders  and 
walking  backward  herself,  drew  the  other  girl  steadily 
on  until  the  water  rose  to  her  neck.  Elizabeth  gasped, 
and  deadly  fear  looked  out  of  her  straining  eyes,  but 
she  made  no  sound.  The  next  instant  Olga  had  turned 
and  was  pulling  her  swiftly  back  to  the  beach. 

"  There !  You  see  it  didn't  hurt  you,"  she  said 
brusquely,  but  never  before  had  she  looked  at  Eliza- 
beth as  she  looked  at  her  then.  "  Now  run  to  the  bath- 
house and  rub  yourself  hard  before  you  dress,"  she 
ordered. 

But  Elizabeth  had  turned  again  towards  the  water, 
and  Olga  followed,  amazed  and  protesting. 

"  Go  back,"  cried  Elizabeth  over  her  shoulder,  "  go 
back.     I'm  going  in  alone  this  time." 

And  alone   she   went  until   once   more  the   water 


A  WATER  CURE  85 

surged  and  rippled  about  her  neck.  Only  an  instant — 
then  she  swayed  and  her  eyes  closed ;  but  before  she 
could  lose  her  footing  Olga's  hands  were  on  her 
shoulders  and  pushing  her  swiftly  back  to  the  beach. 
This  time,  however,  she  did  not  stop  there,  but  swept 
the  small  figure  over  to  the  bathhouse.  There  she 
gave  Elizabeth  a  brisk  rubdown  that  set  the  blood 
dancing  in  her  veins. 

"  Now  get  into  your  clothes  in  a  hurry !  "  she  com- 
manded. 

"  I'm — n-not  c-cold,  Olga,"  Elizabeth  protested  with 
a  pallid  smile,  "truly  I'm  not.  I'm  just  n-nervous,  I 
guess." 

"You're  just  a  brick,  Elizabeth  Page!  "  cried  Olga, 
and  she  slammed  the  door  and  vanished,  leaving  Eliza- 
beth glowing  with  delight. 

Each  day  after  that  Elizabeth  insisted  on  venturing 
a  little  more.  Olga  could  guess  what  it  cost  her — her 
blue  lips  and  the  terror  in  her  eyes  told  that — but  day 
after  day  she  fought  her  battle  over  and  would  not  be 
worsted.  She  learned  to  float,  to  tread  water,  and 
then,  very,  very  slowly,  she  learned  to  swim  a  little. 
Laura,  looking  on,  rejoiced  over  both  the  girls.  Every- 
body was  interested  in  this  marvellous  achievement  of 
the  Poor  Thing — they  spoke  of  her  less  often  by  that 
name  now — but  only  Laura  realised  how  much  it 
meant  to  Olga  too.  The  day  that  Elizabeth  succeeded 
in  swimming  a  few  yards,  Olga  for  the  first  time  took 
her  out  on  the  water  at  sunset;  she  had  never  been 
willing  to  go  before.  Even  now  she  stepped  into  the 
boat  shrinkingly,  the  colour  coming  and  going  in  her 
cheeks,  but  when  she  was  seated,  and  the  boat  floating 
gently  on  the  rose-tinted  water,  the  tense  lines  faded 


86  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

slowly  from  her  face,  and  at  last  she  even  smiled  a 
little. 

"Well,"  said  Olga,  "are  you  still  scared?" 
"A  little — but  not  much.     If  I  wasn't  any  afraid 
it  would  be  lovely — like  rocking  in  a  big,  big  beautiful 
cradle,"  she  ended  dreamily. 

A  swift  glance  assured  Olga  that  they  had  drifted 
away  from  the  other  boats — there  was  no  one  within 
hearing.  She  leaned  forward  and  looked  straight  into 
the  eyes  of  the  other  girl.  "  Now  I  want  to  know 
what  made  you  get  over  your  fear  of  the  water,"  she 
said. 

"  Maybe  I've  not  got  over  it — quite,"  Elizabeth  par- 
ried. 

"What  made  you?  Tell  me!"  Olga's  tone  was 
peremptory. 

"  You,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  I  ?     But  I  didn't— I  couldn't.     I'd  done  my  best, 

but  I  couldn't  drag  you  into  water  above  your  knees 

you  know  I  couldn't.  Somebody  else  did  it,"  Olga 
declared,  a  spark  flickering  in  her  eyes. 

"  Miss  Laura  talked  to  me  that  day  you  were  off 
so  long  in  the  boat,"  Elizabeth  admitted.  "  She  told 
me  I  could  get  over  being  afraid.  I  didn't  think  I 
could  before— truly,  Olga.  I  honestly  thought  I'd  die 
if  ever  the  water  came  up  to  my  neck.  I  don't  know 
how  she  did  it— Miss  Laura— but  she  made  me  see 
that  I  could  get  over  being  so  awfully  afraid — and  I 
did." 

:<  You  said  /  did  it,"  there  was  reproach  as  well 
as  jealousy  now  in  Olga's  voice,  "and  it  was  Miss 
Laura." 

"  O  no,  it  was  you  really,"  Elizabeth  cried  hastily, 


A  WATER  CURE  87 

"  because  I  did  it  for  you.  I  never  could  have — never 
in  this  world! — only  Miss  Laura  said  it  would  please 
you.     I  did  it  for  you,  Olga." 

"  Hm,"  was  Olga's  only  response,  but  now  there 
was  in  her  eyes  something  that  the  Poor  Thing  had 
never  seen  there  before — a  warm  human  friendliness 
that  made  Elizabeth  radiantly  happy. 

"  There  comes  the  war  canoe,"  Olga  cried  a  moment 
later. 

"  How  fast  it  comes — and  how  pretty  the  singing 
sounds  !  "  Elizabeth  returned. 

They  watched  the  big  canoe  as  it  flashed  by,  the  many 
paddles  rising  and  falling  as  one,  while  a  dozen  young 
voices  sang  gaily, 

"  '  We  pull  long,  we  pull  strong, 
We  pull  keen  and  true. 
We  sing  to  the  king  of  the  great  black  rocks, 
Through  waters  we  glide  like  a  long-tailed  fox.'" 

"  Next  year,"  said  Olga,  "  I'm  going  to  teach  you 
to  paddle,  Elizabeth." 


VII 

HONOURS  WON 

THE  camp  was  to  break  up  in  a  few  days,  and 
the  Guardians  had  planned  to  make  the  last 
Council  Fire  as  picturesque  and  effective  as 
possible — something  for  the  girls  to  hold  as  a  beau- 
tiful memory  through  the  months  to  come.  It  fell 
on  a  lovely  evening,  a  cool  breeze  blowing  from  the 
water,  and  a  young  moon  adding  a  golden  gleam  to 
the  silvery  shining  of  the  stars.  Most  of  the  girls  had 
finished  their  ceremonial  dresses  and  all  were  to  be 
worn  to-night. 

"  I'm  ridiculously  excited,  Anne,"  Laura  said,  as 
she  looked  down  at  her  woods-brown  robe  with  its 
fringes  and  embroideries.  I  don't  feel  a  bit  as  if  I 
were  prosaic  Laura  Haven.  I'm  really  one  of  the 
nut-brown  Indian  maids  that  roamed  these  woods  in 
ages  past." 

"If  any  of  those  nut-brown  maids  were  as  pretty 
as  you  are  to-night,  they  must  have  had  all  the  braves 
at  their  feet,"  returned  Anne,  with  an  admiring  glance 
at  her  friend.  "  What  splendid  thick  braids  you  have, 
Laura !  " 

"  I'm  acquainted  with  the  braids,"  Laura  answered, 
flinging  them  carelessly  over  her  shoulders,  "  but  this 
beautiful  bead  headband  I've  never  worn  before.  Is 
it  on  right  ?  " 

88 


HONOURS  WON  89 

"  All  right,"  Anne  replied.  "  The  Busy  Corner  girls 
will  be  proud  of  their  Guardian  to-night." 

Laura  scarcely  heard,  her  thoughts  were  so  full  of 
her  girls — the  girls  she  had  already  learned  to  love. 
She  turned  eagerly  as  the  bugle  notes  of  the  Council 
call  rang  out  in  silvery  sweetness.  "  O,  come.  Don't 
let  them  start  without  us,"  she  urged. 

"  No  danger — they  will  want  their  Guardians  to 
lead  the  procession." 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Royall  appeared,  and  quickly  the 
girls  fell  into  line  behind  her.  First,  the  four  Guard- 
ians ;  then  two  Torch  Bearers,  each  holding  aloft  in  her 
right  hand  a  lighted  lantern.  Flaming  torches  would 
have  been  more  picturesque,  but  also  more  dangerous 
in  the  woods,  and  all  risk  of  fire  must  be  avoided. 
After  the  Torch  Bearers  came  the  Fire  Makers,  and 
last  of  all  the  Wood  Gatherers,  with  Katie  the  cook 
wearing  a  gorgeous  robe  that  some  of  the  girls  had 
embroidered  for  her.  Katie's  unfailing  good  nature 
had  made  her  a  general  favourite  in  camp. 

As  the  procession  wound  through  the  irregular 
woods-path  Laura  gave  a  little  cry  of  delight. 

"  O,  do  look  back,  Anne — it  is  so  pretty,"  she  said. 
"  If  it  wasn't  that  I  want  to  be  a  part  of  it,  I'd  run 
ahead  so  I  could  see  it  all  better." 

Mrs.  Royall  began  to  sing  and  the  girls  instantly 
caught  up  the  strain,  and  in  and  out  among  the  trees 
the  procession  wound  to  the  music  of  the  young  voices, 
the  lanterns  throwing  flashes  of  light  on  either  side, 
while  the  shadows  seemed  to  slip  out  of  the  woods 
and  follow  "  like  a  procession  of  black-robed  nuns," 
Laura  said  to  herself. 


90  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

The  Council  chamber  was  a  high  open  space,  sur- 
rounded on  every  side  but  one  by  tall  pines.  The 
open  side  faced  the  bay,  and  across  the  water  glim- 
mered a  tiny  golden  pathway  from  the  moon  in  the 
western  sky,  where  a  golden  glow  from  the  sunset 
yet  lingered. 

The  girls  formed  the  semicircle,  with  the  Guardians 
in  the  open  space.  Wood  had  been  gathered  earlier 
in  the  day,  and  now  the  Wood  Gatherers,  each  taking 
a  stick,  laid  it  where  the  fire  was  to  be.  As  the  last 
stick  was  brought,  the  Fire  Makers  moved  forward 
and  swiftly  and  skilfully  set  the  wood  ready  for 
lighting.  On  this  occasion,  to  save  time,  the  rubbing 
sticks  were  dispensed  with,  and  Mrs.  Royall  signed  to 
Laura  to  light  the  fire  with  a  match. 

The  usual  order  of  exercises  followed,  the  songs 
and  chants  echoing  with  a  solemn  sweetness  among 
the  tall  pines  in  whose  tops  the  night  wind  played  a 
soft  accompaniment. 

To-night  the  interest  of  the  girls  centred  in  the 
awarding  of  honours.  All  of  the  Busy  Corner  girls 
had  won  more  or  less,  and  as  Laura  read  each  name 
and  announced  the  honours,  the  girl  came  forward  and 
received  her  beads  from  the  Chief  Guardian.  Mrs. 
Royall  had  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  word  for  each  one ; 
but  when  Myra  Karr  stood  before  her,  she  laid  her 
hand  very  kindly  on  the  girl's  shoulder  and  turned  to 
the  listening  circle. 

"  Camp  Fire  Girls,"  she  said,  "  here  is  one  who  is  to 
receive  special  honour  at  our  hands  to-night,  for  she 
has  won  a  great  victory.  You  all  know  how  fearful 
and  timid  she  was,  for  you  yourselves  called  her — 
Bunny.    Now  she  has  fought  and  conquered  her  great 


HONOURS  WON  91 

dragon — Fear — and  you  have  dropped  that  name,  and 
she  must  never  again  be  called  by  it." 

With  a  pencil,  on  a  bit  of  birch  back,  she  wrote  the 
name  and  dropped  the  bark  into  the  heart  of  the  glow- 
ing fire.  "  It  is  gone  forever,"  she  said,  her  hand 
again  on  Myra's  shoulder.  "  Now  what  shall  be  the 
new  Camp  Fire  name  of  our  comrade  ?  " 

Several  names  were  suggested,  and  finally  Watewin, 
the  Indian  word  for  one  who  conquers,  was  chosen. 
Myra  stood  with  radiant  eyes  looking  about  the  circle 
until  Mrs.  Royall  said,  "  Myra,  we  give  you  to-night 
your  new  name.  You  are  Watewin,  for  you  have  con- 
quered fear,"  and  the  girl  walked  back  to  her  place, 
joy  shining  in  her  eyes. 

Then  Mrs.  Royall  spoke  again,  her  glance  sweeping 
the  circle  of  intent  faces.  "  There  is  another  who  has 
conquered  the  dragon — Fear — and  who  deserves  high 
honour — Elizabeth  Page." 

Elizabeth,  absorbed  in  watching  Myra's  radiant  face, 
had  absolutely  forgotten  herself,  and  did  not  even  no- 
tice when  her  own  name  was  spoken.  Olga  had  to  tell 
her  and  give  her  a  little  push  forward  before  she 
realised  that  Mrs.  Royall  was  waiting  for  her.  For 
a  second  she  drew  back ;  then,  catching  her  breath,  she 
went  gravely  forward.  The  voice  and  eyes  of  the 
Chief  Guardian  were  very  tender  as  she  looked  down 
into  the  shy  blue  eyes  lifted  to  hers. 

"  You  too,  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  "  have  fought  and 
conquered,  not  once,  but  many  times,  and  to  you  also 
we  give  to-night  a  new  name."  She  did  not  repeat 
the  old  one,  but  writing  it  on  a  bit  of  bark  as  she  had 
written  Myra's,  she  told  the  girl  to  drop  it  into  the 
fire.     Elizabeth  obeyed — she  had  never  known  what 


92  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

the  girls  had  christened  her  and  now  she  did  not 
care.  Breathlessly  she  listened  as  Mrs.  Royall 
went  on,  "  Camp  Fire  Girls,  what  shall  be  her  new 
name  ?  " 

It  was  Laura  who  answered  after  a  little  silence, 
"  Adawana,  the  brave  and  faithful." 

"  Adawana,  the  brave  and  faithful,"  Mrs.  Royall 
repeated.  "  Is  that  right  ?  Is  it  the  right  name  for 
Elizabeth,  Camp  Fire  Girls  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  came  the  response  from  two  score 
eager  voices. 

"  You  are  Adawana,  the  brave  and  faithful,"  said 
Mrs.  Royall,  looking  down  again  into  the  blue  eyes, 
full  now  of  wonder  and  shy  joy. 

"  Now  listen  to  the  honours  that  Adawana  has 
won." 

As  Laura  read  the  long  list  a  murmur  of  surprise 
ran  round  the  circle.  The  girls  had  known  that  Eliza- 
beth would  have  some  honours,  for  they  all  knew  how 
Olga  had  compelled  her  to  do  things,  but  no  one  had 
imagined  that  there  would  be  anything  like  this  long 
list — least  of  all  had  Elizabeth  herself  imagined  it. 
Perplexity  and  dismay  were  in  her  eyes  as  she  lis- 
tened, and  as  Laura  finished  the  reading,  Elizabeth 
whispered  quickly, 

"  O  Miss  Laura,  there's  some  mistake.  I  couldn't 
have  all  those — not  half  so  many !  " 

"  It's  all  right,  dear,"  Laura  assured  her,  and  in  a 
louder  tone  she  added,  "  There  is  no  mistake.  The 
record  has  been  carefully  kept  and  verified ;  but  you 
see  Elizabeth  was  not  working  for  honours,  and  had 
no  idea  how  many  she  had  won." 

Elizabeth  looked  fairly  dazed  as  Mrs.  Royall  threw 


HONOURS  WON  93 

over  her  head  the  necklace  with  its  red  and  blue  and 
orange  beads.  Turning,  she  hurried  back  to  her  place 
next  Olga. 

"  It  was  all  you — you  did  it.  You  ought  to  have 
the  honours  instead  of  me,"  she  whispered,  half  cry- 
ing. 

"  It's  all  right.  Don't  be  a  baby! "  Olga  flung  at  her 
savagely,  to  forestall  the  tears. 

Then  somebody  nudged  her  and  whispered,  "  Olga 
Priest,  don't  you  hear  Mrs.  Royall  calling  you  ?  " 

Wondering,  Olga  obeyed  the  summons.  She  had 
reported  no  honours  won,  and  had  no  idea  why  she 
was  called.  Laura,  standing  beside  Mrs.  Royall, 
smiled  happily  at  the  girl  as  she  stopped,  and  stood, 
her  dark  brows  drawn  together  in  a  frown  of  per- 
plexity. 

"  Olga,"  Mrs.  Royall  said,  "  it  has  been  a  great  joy 
to  us  to  bestow  upon  Adawana  the  symbols  which  rep- 
resent the  honours  she  has  won.  We  are  sure  that  she 
will  wear  them  worthily,  and  that  her  life  will  be  bet- 
ter and  happier  because  of  that  for  which  they  stand. 
We  recognise  the  fact,  however,  that  but  for  you  she 
could  not  have  won  these  honours.  You  have  worked 
harder  than  she  has  to  secure  them  for  her;  therefore 
to  you  belongs  the  greater  honour " 

"No!  No!"  cried  Olga  under  her  breath,  but  with 
a  smile  Mrs.  Royall  went  on,  "  We  know  that  to  you 
the  symbols  of  honours  won — beads  and  ornaments — 
have  little  value — but  we  have  for  you  something  that 
we  hope  you  will  value  because  we  all  have  a  share 
in  it,  every  one  in  the  camp ;  and  we  ask  you  to  wear 
this  because  you  have  shown  us  what  one  Camp  Fire 
Girl  can  do  for  another.    The  work  is  all  Elizabeth's. 


94  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

The  rest  of  us  only  gave  the  beads,  and  your  Guardian 
taught  Elizabeth  how  to  use  them." 

She  held  out  a  headband,  beautiful  in  design  and 
colouring.  Olga  stared  at  it,  at  first  too  utterly  amazed 
for  any  words.     Finally  she  stammered,  "  Why,  I — 

I — didn't  know — Elizabeth "  and  then  to  her  own 

utter  consternation  came  a  rush  of  tears.  Tears!  And 
she  had  lived  dry-eyed  through  four  years  of  lonely 
misery.  Choked,  blinded,  and  unable  to  speak  even  a 
word  of  thanks,  she  took  the  headband  and  turned 
hastily  away,  and  as  she  went  the  watching  circle 
chanted  very  low, 

"'Wohelo  means  love. 

Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  for- 
gotten— that  self  is  forgotten.'" 

With  shining  eyes — yet  half  afraid — Elizabeth 
waited  as  Olga  came  back  to  her.  She  knew  Olga's 
scorn  for  honours  and  ornaments.  Would  she  be 
scornful  now — or  would  she  be  glad?  Elizabeth  felt 
that  she  never,  never  could  endure  it  if  Olga  were 
scornful  or  angry  now — if  this,  her  great  secret,  her 
long,  hard  labour  of  love — should  be  only  a  great  dis- 
appointment after  all. 

But  it  was  not.  She  knew  that  it  was  not  as  soon  as 
Olga  was  near  enough  to  see  the  look  in  her  eyes.  She 
knew  then  that  it  was  all  right;  and  the  poor  little 
hungry  heart  of  her  sang  for  joy  when  Olga  placed 
the  band  over  her  forehead  and  bent  her  proud  head 
for  Elizabeth  to  fasten  it  in  place.  Elizabeth  did  it 
with  fingers  trembling  with  happy  excitement.  The 
coldness  that  had  so  often  chilled  her  was  all  gone 
now  from  the  dark  eyes.    Olga  understood.    Elizabeth 


HONOURS  WON  95 

had  no  more  voice  than  a  duckling,  but  she  felt  just 
then  as  if  she  could  sing  like  a  song  sparrow  from 
sheer  happiness.  It  was  such  a  wonderful  thing  to  be 
happy !  Elizabeth  had  never  before  known  the  joy 
of  it. 

But  Mrs.  Royall  was  speaking  again.  "  Wohelo 
means  work  and  health  and  love,"  she  said,  "  you  all 
know  that — the  three  best  things  in  all  this  beautiful 
world.     Which  of  the  three  is  best  of  all  ?  " 

Softly  Anne  Wentworth  sang, 

'"Wohelo  means  love," 

and  instantly  the  girls  took  up  the  refrain, 

'"Wohelo  means  love, 

Wohelo  means  love. 

Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  for- 
gotten. 
Wohelo  means  love.'" 

Laura's  eyes,  watching  the  young,  earnest  faces, 
filled  with  quick  tears  as  the  refrain  was  repeated 
softly  and  lingeringly,  again  and  yet  again.  Mrs. 
Royall  stood  motionless  until  the  last  low  note  died  into 
silence.     Then  she  went  on : 

"  Work  is  splendid  for  mind  and  body.  Some  of 
you  have  worked  for  honours  and  that  is  well.  Some 
have  worked  for  the  love  of  the  work — that  is  better. 
Some  have  worked — or  fought — for  conquest  over 
weakness,  and  that  is  better  yet.  But  two  of  our  num- 
ber have  worked  and  conquered,  not  for  honour,  not 
for  love  of  labour,  not  even  for  self-conquest — but  for 
unselfish  love  of  another.  That  is  the  highest  form 
of  service,  dear  Camp  Fire  Girls — the  service  that  is 


96  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

done  in  forgetfulness  of  self.    That  is  the  thought  I 
leave  with  you  to-night." 

She  stepped  back,  and  instantly  each  girl  placed  her 
right  hand  over  her  heart  and  all  together  repeated 

slowly, 

"'This  Law  of  the  Fire 
I  will  strive  to  follow 
With  all  the  strength 
And  endurance  of  my  body, 
The  power  of  my  will, 
The  keenness  of  my  mind, 
The  warmth  of  my  heart, 
And  the  sincerity  of  my  spirit."* 

The  fire  had  died  down  to  glowing  coals.  At  a  sign 
from  the  Chief  Guardian  two  of  the  Fire  Makers  ex- 
tinguished the  embers,  pouring  water  over  them  till 
not  a  spark  remained.  The  lanterns  were  relighted, 
the  procession  formed  again,  and  the  girls  marched 
back,  singing  as  they  went. 

"  O  dear,  I  can't  bear  to  think  that  we  shall  not  have 
another  Council  Fire  like  this  for  months — even  if  we 
come  here  next  summer,"  Mary  Hastings  said  when 
they  were  back  in  camp. 

"  And  wasn't  this  the  very  dearest  one !  "  cried  Bes- 
sie Carroll.  "  With  Myra's  honours  and  Elizabeth's, 
and  Olga's  headband — wasn't  she  surprised,  though !  " 

"  First  time  I  ever,  saw  Olga  Priest  dumfounded," 
laughed  Louise.  "  But,  say,  girls— that  Poor  Thing 
is  a  duck  after  all — she  is  really." 

Bessie's  plump  hand  covered  Louise's  lips.  "  Hush, 
hush !  "  she  cried  in  a  tone  of  real  distress,  for  she 
loved  Elizabeth.     "That  name  is  burnt  up." 

"  So    it    is — beg    everybody's    pardon,"     yawned 


HONOURS  WON  97 

Louise.  "  But  Elizabeth  couldn't  hear  way  over  there 
with  Olga  and  Miss  Laura.  I  say,  girls,"  she  added 
with  her  usual  giggle,  "  I  feel  as  if  I'd  been  wound  up 
to  concert  pitch  and  I've  got  to  let  down  somehow. 
Get  out  your  fiddle,  Rose,  and  play  us  a  jig.  I've  got 
to  get  some  of  this  seriousness  out  of  my  system  before 
I  go  to  bed." 

Rose  ran  for  her  violin,  and  two  minutes  later  the 
girls  were  dancing  gaily  in  the  moonlight. 

"  I  wish  they  hadn't,"  Laura  whispered  to  Anne. 
"  I  wanted  to  keep  the  impression  of  that  lovely  soft 
chanting  for  the  last." 

"  You  can't  do  it— not  with  Louise  Johnson  around," 
returned  Anne.  "  But  never  mind,  Laura,  they  won't 
forget  this  meeting,  even  if  they  do  have  to  '  react ' 
a  bit.  I'm  sure  that  even  Louise  will  keep  the  memory 
of  this  last  Council  tucked  away  in  some  corner  of  her 
harum-scarum  mind." 


VIII 
ELIZABETH  AT  HOME 

IN  a  tiny  hall  bedroom  in  one  of  the  small  brick 
houses  that  cover  many  blocks  in  certain  sections 
of  Washington,  Elizabeth  Page  was  standing  a 
week  later,  trying  to  screw  up  her  courage  to  a  deed 
of  daring;  and  because  it  was  for  herself  it  seemed 
almost  impossible  for  her  to  do  it.  With  her  white 
face,  her  anxious  eyes,  and  trembling  hands,  she 
seemed  again  the  Poor  Thing  who  had  shrunk  from 
every  one  those  first  days  at  the  camp — every  one  but 
Olga. 

Three  times  Elizabeth  started  to  go  downstairs  and 
three  times  her  courage  failed  and  she  drew  back.  So 
long  as  she  waited  there  was  a  chance — a  very  faint 
one,  but  still  a  chance — that  the  thing  she  so  desired 
might  come  true.  But  the  minutes  were  slipping 
away,  and  finally,  setting  her  lips  desperately,  she 
fairly  ran  down  the  stairs. 

Her  stepmother  glanced  up  with  a  frown  as  the  girl 
stood  before  her. 

"  Well,  what  now  ? "  she  demanded,  in  the  sharp, 
fretful  tone  of  one  whose  nerves  are  all  a- jangle. 

"  I've  done  everything — all  the  supper  work,  and 
fixed  everything  in  the  kitchen  ready  for  morning," 
Elizabeth  said,  her  words  tumbling  over  each  other  in 
her  excitement,  "  and  O,  please  may  I  go  this  evening 
i — to  Miss  Laura's?     It's  the  Camp  Fire  meeting,  and 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  99 

one  of  the  girls  is  going  to  stop  here  for  me,  and — and 
O,  I'll  do  anything  if  only  I  may  go !  " 

The  frown  on  the  woman's  face  deepened  as  Eliza- 
beth stumbled  on,  and  her  answer  was  swift  and  sharp. 

"  You  are  not  going  one  step  out  of  this  house  to- 
night— you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  that — not  one 
step.  I  knew  when  I  let  you  go  off  to  that  camp  that 
it  would  be  just  this  way.  Girls  like  you  are  never 
satisfied.  You  want  the  earth.  Here  you've  had  a 
month — a  whole  month — off  in  the  country  while  I 
stood  in  that  hot  kitchen  and  did  your  work  for  you, 
and  now  you  are  teasing  to  go  stringing  off  again. 
You  are  not  going." 

"  But,"  pleaded  Elizabeth  desperately,  "  I've  worked 
so  hard  to-day — every  minute  since  five  o'clock — 
and  I  washed  and  ironed  Sadie's  white  dress  before 
supper.  If  there  was  any  work  I  had  to  do  it  would 
be  different.  And — and  even  servant  girls  have  an 
afternoon  and  evening  off  every  week,  and  I  never  do. 
And  I'm  only  asking  now  to  go  out  one  evening  in  a 
month — just  one!" 

"  There  it  is  again !  "  Mrs.  Page  flung  out.  "  Not 
this  one  evening,  but  an  evening  every  month ;  and  if  I 
agreed  to  that,  next  thing  you'd  be  wanting  to  go 
every  week.     I  tell  you — no.     Now  let  that  end  it." 

The  tears  welled  up  in  Elizabeth's  eyes  as  she  turned 
slowly  away;  and  the  sight  of  those  tears  awakened 
a  tumult  in  another  quarter.  Four-year-old  Molly 
had  been  rocking  her  Teddy  Bear  to  sleep  when  Eliza- 
beth came  downstairs,  and  had  listened,  wide-eyed 
and  wondering,  to  all  that  passed.  But  tears  in 
Elizabeth's  eyes  were  too  much.  The  Teddy  Bear 
tumbled  unheeded  to  the  floor  as  Molly  rushed  across 


100  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

to  Elizabeth  and,  clinging  to  her  skirts,  turned  a  small 
flushed  face  to  her  mother. 

"  Naughty,  naughty  mamma — make  'Lizbet'  ky! " 
she  cried  out,  stamping  her  small  foot  angrily.  "  Molly 
love  'Lizbet'  hard!" 

Elizabeth  caught  up  the  child  and  turned  to  go,  but 
a  sharp  command  stopped  her.  "  Put  that  child  down. 
I  won't  have  you  setting  her  against  her  own  mother !  " 

Elizabeth  unclasped  the  little  clinging  arms  and  put 
the  child  down,  but  Molly  still  clutched  her  dress, 
sobbing  now  and  hiding  her  face  from  her  mother. 
The  tinkle  of  the  doorbell  cut  the  tense  silence  that 
followed  Mrs.  Page's  last  command.  Sadie,  an  older 
girl,  ran  to  open  it,  flashing  a  triumphant  glance  at 
Elizabeth  as  she  passed  her. 

As  Sadie  flung  open  the  door,  Elizabeth  saw  Olga 
on  the  step,  and  Olga's  quick  eyes  took  in  the  scene — 
the  frowning  woman,  Elizabeth's  wet  eyes  and  droop- 
ing mouth,  and  little  Molly  clinging  to  her  skirts  as 
she  looked  over  her  shoulder  to  see  who  had  come. 
Sadie  stared  pertly  at  Olga  and  waited  for  her  to 
speak. 

"  I've  come  for  Elizabeth.    I'm  Olga " 

"  Elizabeth  can't  go.  Mother  won't  let  her,"  inter- 
rupted Sadie  with  ill-concealed  satisfaction  in  her 
narrow  eyes. 

Elizabeth    started    towards    the   door.       "  O    Olga, 

please  tell  Miss  Laura "  she  was  beginning  when 

Sadie  unceremoniously  slammed  the  door  and  marched 
back  with  a  victorious  air  to  her  mother's  side. 

Olga  was  left  staring  at  the  outside  of  the  door,  and 
if  a  look  could  have  demolished  it  and  annihilated  Miss 
Sadie,  both  these  things  might  have  happened  then 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  101 

and  there.  But  the  door  stood  fi'.m,  ancl*tbera.was4io 
reason  to  think  that  anything  lintbwafd  lia  1  fcta{jpeh'ed 
to  Sadie ;  so  after  a  moment  Olga  turned,  flew  down 
the  steps,  and  hurrying  over  to  the  car-line,  hailed  the 
first  car  that  appeared.  Fifteen  minutes  later  she  was 
ringing  the  bell  at  the  door  of  Judge  Haven's  big  stone 
house  on  Wyoming  Avenue.  The  servants  in  that 
house  never  turned  away  any  girl  asking  for  Miss 
Laura,  so  this  one  was  promptly  shown  into  the  li- 
brary. Laura  rose  to  meet  her  with  a  cordial  greeting, 
but  Olga  neither  heard  nor  heeded. 

"  She  can't  come.  Elizabeth  can't  come !  "  she  cried 
out.  "  They  wouldn't  even  let  me  speak  to  her,  though 
she  was  right  there  in  the  hall — nor  let  her  give  me  a 
message  for  you.  Her  sister  slammed  the  door  in 
my  face.  Miss  Laura,  I'd  like  to  kill  that  girl  and  her 
mother!  " 

"  Hush,  hush,  my  dear !  "  Laura  said  gently.  "  Sit 
down  and  tell  me  quietly  just  what  happened." 

Olga  flung  herself  into  a  chair  and  told  her  story, 
but  she  could  not  tell  it  quietly.  She  told  it  with  eyes 
flashing  under  frowning  brows  and  her  words  were  full 
of  bitterness. 

"  Elizabeth's  just  a  slave  to  them — worse  than  a 
servant !  "  she  stormed.  "  She  never  goes  anywhere — 
never!  They  wouldn't  have  let  her  go  to  the  camp 
if  she  hadn't  been  sick  and  the  doctor  said  she'd  die 
if  she  didn't  have  a  rest  and  change,  and  so  Miss 
Grandis  got  her  off.  O  Miss  Laura,  can't  you  do 
something  about  it?  Elizabeth  wanted  so  to  come — 
she  was  crying.  I  know  how  she  was  counting  on  it 
before  we  left  the  camp." 

Laura  shook  her  head  sorrowfully.     "  I  don't  know 


102  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

what  J  can- do.  You  see  site  is  not  yet  of  age,  and  her 
father  has  a  light — a  iega-1  right,  I  mean — to  keep  her 
at  home." 

"  But  it  isn't  her  father,  it's  that  woman — his  wife," 
Olga  declared.  "  She  won't  even  let  Elizabeth  call 
her  mother — not  that  I  should  think  she'd  want  to — 
but  when  I  asked  Elizabeth  why  she  called  her  Mrs. 
Page  she  said  her  stepmother  told  her  when  she  first 
came  there  that  she  didn't  want  a  great  girl  that  didn't 
belong  to  her  calling  her  mother." 

"  Elizabeth  is  seventeen?  "  Laura  questioned. 

Olga  nodded.  "  She  won't  be  eighteen  till  next 
April.  /  wouldn't  stay  there  till  I  was  eighteen.  I'd 
clear  out.  She  could  earn  her  own  living  and  not 
work  half  as  hard  somewhere  else,  and  go  out  when 
she  liked,  too."  She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  half 
aloud  she  added,  "  I'll  find  a  way  to  fix  that  woman 
yet !  " 

"  Olga,"  Laura  looked  straight  into  the  sombre  an- 
gry eyes,  "  you  must  not  interfere  in  this  matter.  Two 
wrongs  will  never  make  a  right.  If  there  is  anything 
that  can  be  done  for  Elizabeth,  be  sure  that  I  will  do  it. 
And  if  not — it  is  only  seven  months  to  April." 

"  Seven  months !  "  echoed  Olga  passionately.  "  Miss 
Laura,  how  would  you  live  through  seven  months 
without  ever  getting  out  anywhere  ?" 

Laura  shook  her  head.  "  We  will  hope  that  Eliza- 
beth will  not  have  to  do  that,"  she  said  gently.  "  But  I 
hear  some  of  the  girls.     Come." 

In  the  wide  hall  were  half  a  dozen  girls  who  had  just 
arrived,  and  Laura  led  the  way  to  a  large  room  on  the 
third  floor.  At  the  door  of  this  room,  the  girls  broke 
into  cries  and  exclamations  of  pleasure. 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  103 

"  It's  like  a  bit  of  the  camp,"  Mary  Hastings  cried, 
and  Rose  Anderson  exclaimed, 

"  It's  just  the  sweetest  room  I  ever  saw !  "  and  she 
sniffed  delightedly  the  spicy  fragrance  of  the  pines 
and  balsam  firs  that  stood  in  great  green  tubs  about 
the  walls.  On  the  floor  was  a  grass  rug  of  green  and 
wood-colour,  and  against  the  walls  stood  several  long 
low  settees  of  brown  rattan,  backs  and  seats  cushioned 
in  cretonne  of  soft  greens  and  cream-colour,  and  a  few 
chairs  of  like  pattern  were  scattered  about.  Curtains 
of  cream-coloured  cheesecloth,  with  a  stencilled  design 
of  pine  cones  in  shaded  browns,  draped  the  windows, 
and  in  the  wide  fireplace  a  fire  was  laid  ready  for 
lighting.  The  low  mantelpiece  above  it  held  only  three 
brass  candlesticks  with  bayberry  candles,  and  above  it, 
beautifully  lettered  in  sepia,  were  the  words, 

" '  Whoso  shall  stand  by  this  hearthstone, 
Flame-fanned, 

Shall  never,  never  stand  alone : 
Whose  house  is  dark  and  bare  and  cold, 
Whose  house  is  cold, 
This  is  his  own.'" 

And  below  this 
"'Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  forgotten.'" 

Bessie  Carroll  drew  a  long  breath  as  she  looked 
about,  and  said  earnestly,  "  Miss  Laura,  I  never,  never 
saw  any  place  so  dear !  I  didn't  think  there  could  be 
such  a  pretty  room." 

Laura  bent  and  kissed  the  earnest  little  face.  "  I 
am  glad  you  like  it  so  much,  dear,"  she  said.     "  I  like 


104  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

it  too.  You  remember  the  very  first  words  of  our 
Camp  Fire  law — '  Seek  beauty  '  ?  I  thought  of  that 
when  I  was  furnishing  this.  It  is  our  Camp  Fire 
room,  girls,  and  I  hope  we  shall  have  many  happy 
times  together  here." 

"  I  guess  they  couldn't  help  being  happy  times  in  a 
room  like  this — and  with  you,"  returned  Bessie  with 
her  shy  smile,  which  remark  was  promptly  approved 
by  the  other  girls — except  Olga,  who  said  nothing. 

"  You  look  as  glum  as  that  old  barn  owl  at  the 
camp,  Olga,"  Louise  Johnson  told  her  under  cover  of 
the  gay  clamour  of  talk  that  followed.  "  For  heaven's 
sake,  do  cheer  up  a  bit.  That  face  of  yours  is  enough 
to  curdle  the  milk  of  human  kindness." 

Olga's  only  response  was  a  black  scowl  and  a  savage 
glance,  at  which  Louise  retreated  with  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders  and  an  exasperating  wink  and  giggle. 

Within  half  an  hour  all  the  girls  were  there  except 
Elizabeth.  Olga,  glooming  in  a  corner,  thought  of 
Elizabeth  crawling  off  alone  to  her  room  to  cry. 
Torture  would  not  have  wrung  tears  from  Olga's  great 
black  eyes,  and  she  would  have  seen  them  unmoved  in 
the  eyes  of  any  other  girl ;  but  Elizabeth — that  was 
another  thing.  She  glanced  scornfully  at  the  others 
laughing  and  chattering  around  Miss  Laura,  and  vowed 
that  she  would  never  come  to  another  of  the  meetings 
unless  Elizabeth  could  come  too.     If  Miss  Laura,  after 

all  her  talk,  couldn't  do  something  to  help  Elizabeth 

But  Miss  Laura  was  standing  before  her  now  with  a 
box  of  matches  in  her  hand. 

"  I  want  you  to  light  our  fire  to-night,  Olga,"  she 
said  gently.  Ungraciously  enough,  Olga  touched  a 
match  to  the  splinters  of  resinous  pine  on  the  hearth, 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  105 

and  as  the  fire  flashed  into  brightness,  Miss  Laura, 
turning  out  the  electric  lights,  said,  "  I  love  the  fire,  but 
I  love  the  candles  almost  as  much ;  so  at  our  meetings 
here,  we  will  have  both."  The  girls  were  standing 
now  in  a  circle  broken  only  by  the  fire.  Miss  Laura  set 
the  three  candlesticks  with  the  bayberry  candles  on  the 
floor  in  the  centre  of  the  circle  and  motioned  the  girls 
to  sit  down.  Lightly  they  dropped  to  the  floor,  and 
Laura,  touching  a  splinter  to  the  fire,  handed  it  to 
Frances  Chapin,  a  grave  studious  High  School  girl 
who  had  not  been  at  the  camp.  Rising  on  one  knee, 
Frances  repeated  slowly, 

"  '  I  light  the  light  of  Work,  for  Wohelo  means 
work,'  "  and  lighting  the  candle,  she  added, 

•"Wohelo  means  work. 

We  glorify  work,  because  through  work  we  are  free. 
We  work  to  win,  to  conquer,  to  be  masters.     We  work 
for  the  joy  of  the  working  and  because  we  are  free. 
Wohelo  means  work."' 

As  Frances  stepped  back  into  the  circle,  Laura 
beckoned  to  Mary  Hastings,  the  strongest,  healthiest 
girl  of  them  all,  who,  coming  forward,  chanted  slowly 
in  her  deep  rich  voice, 

'  "  I  light  the  light  of  Health,  for  Wolelo  means  health! '  " 

Lighting  the  candle,  she  went  on, 

"'Wohelo  means  health. 

We    hold  on    to    health,   because   through  health   we 

serve  and  are  happy. 
In  caring  for  the  health  and  beauty  of  our  persons  we 
are  caring  for  the  very  shrine  of  the  Great  Spirit. 
Wohelo  means  health.'" 

As  Mary  went  back  to  her  place  Laura  laid  her  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  Bessie  Carroll,  who  was  next  her. 


106  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

With  a  glance  of  pleased  surprise  Bessie  took  the  third 
taper  and  in  her  low  gentle  voice  repeated, 

"'I  light  the  light  of  Love,  for  Wohelo  means  love.'" 

The  room  was  very  still  as  she  lighted  the  third 
candle,  saying, 

"  '  Wohelo  means  love. 

We  love  love,  for  love  is  life,  and  light  and  joy  and 

sweetness. 
And  love  is  comradeship  and  motherhood,  and  father- 
hood and  all  dear  kinship. 
Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  forgotten. 
Wohelo  means  love.'" 

As  she  spoke  the  last  words  a  strain  of  music,  so  low 
that  it  was  barely  audible,  breathed  through  the  room, 
then  deepened  into  one  clear  note,  and  instantly  the 
wohelo  cheer  rose  in  a  joyful  chorus. 

After  the  roll-call  and  reports  of  the  last  meeting 
there  was  no  more  ceremony.  Miss  Laura  had  set  the 
three  candles  back  on  the  mantelpiece,  where  they 
burned  steadily,  sending  out  a  faint  spicy  odor  that 
mingled  with  the  pleasant  fragrance  of  the  firs.  The 
fire  snapped  and  sang  and  blazed  merrily,  and  Laura 
dropped  down  on  the  floor  in  front  of  it,  gathering  the 
girls  closer  about  her. 

"  To-night,"  she  began,  "  I  want  to  hear  about  your 
good  times — the  '  fun  '  that  every  girl  wants  and  needs. 
Tell  me,  what  do  you  enjoy  most?  " 

"  Moving  pictures,"  shouted  Eva  Bicknell,  a  little 
bundle-wrapper  of  fifteen. 

"  Dances,"  cried  another  girl. 

"  O  yes,  dances,"  echoed  pretty  Annie  Pearson,  her 
eyes  shining. 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  107 

"  I  like  the  roller  skating  at  the  Arcade,"  another 
declared. 

"  The  gym.  and  swimming  pool  and  tennis."  That 
was  Mary  Hastings. 

"  Hear  her,  will  ye  ? "  Eva  Bicknell  muttered. 
"  Great  chance  we  have  for  tennis  and  gym. !  " 

"You  could  have  them  at  the  Y.W.C.A.  That's 
where  I  go  for  them  when  you  go  to  your  dances  and 
picture  shows,"  retorted  Mary. 

"  But  the  picture  shows  is  great  fun,  'specially  when 
the  boys  take  ye  in,"  the  other  flung  back. 

There  was  a  laugh  at  that,  and  the  little  bundle- 
wrapper  added,  "  an'  finish  up  with  a  promenade  on 
the  avenue  in  the  'lectric  lights." 

Laura's  heart  sank  at  these  frank  expressions  of 
opinion.  What  had  she  to  offer  that  would  offset 
picture  shows,  dances  and  "  the  boys  "  for  such  girls 
as  these?  But  now  one  of  the  High  School  girls  was 
speaking.  "  We  have  most  of  our  good  times  at  the 
school.  There  is  always  something  going  on — lunches 
or  concerts  or  socials  or  dances — and  once  a  year  we 
get  up  a  play.  Some  girl  in  the  class  generally  writes 
the  play.     It's  great  fun." 

Laura  brightened  at  that.  Here  were  three  at  least 
who  cared  for  something  besides  picture  shows.  For 
half  an  hour  longer  she  let  the  talk  run  on,  and  that 
half-hour  gave  her  sidelights  on  many  of  the  girls. 
Except  Olga — she  had  not  opened  her  lips  during  the 
discussion. 

When  there  came  a  little  pause,  Laura  spoke  in  a 
carefully  careless  way.  "  I  told  you,  girls,  that  this  is 
our  Camp  Fire  room  and  I  want  you  to  feel  that  it 
belongs  to  you — every  one  of  you  owns  a  share  in  it. 


108  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

We  shall  have  the  Council  meetings  here  every  Satur- 
day, but  this  room  is  not  to  be  shut  up  all  the 
other  evenings.  We  may  have  no  moving  pictures, 
but  you  can  come  here  and  dance  if  you  wish,  or 
play  games,  or  sing — I'm  going  to  have  a  piano 
here  soon — or  if  you  like  you  can  bring  your  sew- 
ing— your  Christmas  presents  to  make.  What  I 
want  you  to  understand  is  that  this  room  is  yours, 
to  be  used  for  your  pleasure.  You  haven't  seen  all 
yet." 

Rising,  she  touched  a  button,  and  as  the  room  was 
flooded  with  light,  threw  open  a  door.  The  girls, 
crowding  after  her,  broke  into  cries  of  delight  and 
admiration;  for  here  was  a  white-tiled  kitchen  com- 
plete in  all  its  appointments,  even  to  a  small  white- 
enamelled  gas  range  and  a  tiny  refrigerator.  On  brass 
hooks  hung  blue  and  white  saucepans  and  kettles  and 
spoons,  and  a  triangular  corner  closet  with  leaded 
doors  revealed  blue  and  white  china  and  glass. 

"  All  for  the  Camp  Fire  Girls,"  Laura  said,  "  and  it 
means  fudge,  and  popcorn,  and  toasted  marshmallows 
and  bacon-bats  and  anything  else  you  like.  You  can 
come  here  yourselves  every  Wednesday  evening,  and 
if  you  wish,  you  can  bring  a  friend  with  you  to  share 
your  good  times." 

"  Boy  or  girl  friend?  "  Lena  Barton's  shrewd  eyes 
twinkled  as  she  asked  the  question,  with  a  saucy  tilt 
to  her  little  freckled  nose. 

"  Either,"  returned  Laura  instantly,  though  until 
that  moment  she  had  thought  only  of  girls. 

"  Gee,  but  you're  some  Guardian,  Miss  Laura !  " 
Lena  replied. 

As  the  girls  reluctantly  tore  themselves  away  from 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  109 

the  fascinating  kitchen,  two  maids  entered  with  trays 
of  sandwiches  and  nutcakes,  olives  and  candy. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
having  you  all  here  in  my  own  home,"  Miss  Laura 
said,  "  so  we  must  break  bread  together." 

"  Gee !  This  beats  the  picture  shows,"  Lena  Barton 
declared.  "  Three  cheers  for  our  Guardian — give  'em 
with  claps !  "  and  both  cheers  and  clapping  were  given 
in  generous  measure. 

When  finally  there  was  a  movement  to  depart, 
Laura  gathered  the  girls  once  more  about  her  before 
the  fire.  "  I  hope,"  she  began,  "  you  have  all  enjoyed 
this  evening  as  much  as  I  have " 

"We  have!  We  have!"  half  a  dozen  voices  broke 
in,  and  Lena  Barton  shrilled  enthusiastically,  "  More!  " 

Laura  smiled  at  them ;  then  she  glanced  up  at  the 
words  above  the  mantelpiece.  "  The  joy  of  service," 
she  said.  "  That,  to  me,  is  the  heart — the  very  essence 
— of  the  Camp  Fire  idea.  And  while  I  am  planning 
good  times  and  many  of  them  for  ourselves  in  these 
coming  months,  I  wish  that  together  we  might  do  some 
of  this  loving  service  for  some  one  beside  ourselves. 
Think  it  over — think  hard — and  at  our  next  Council 
meeting,  if  you  are  willing,  we  will  consider  what  we 
can  do,  and  for  whom." 

"You  mean  mish'nary  work?"  questioned  Eva 
Bicknell  doubtfully. 

"  No — at  least  not  what  you  probably  mean  by  mis- 
sionary work,"  Laura  answered. 

"  Christmas  trees  for  alley  folks,  and  that  sort  of 
thing?"  ventured  another. 

"  I  mean,  something  for  somebody  else,"  Laura 
explained.    "  It  may  be  an  old  man  or  woman,  a  child 


110  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

or — or  anything,"  she  ended  hastily,  intercepting  an 
exchange  of  glances  between  Lena  and  Eva.  "  I  just 
want  you  to  think  over  it  and  have  an  idea  to  suggest 
at  our  next  meeting." 

"  Huh !  Thought  the'd  be  nickels  wanted  fer  some- 
thin',"  Eva  Bicknell  grumbled  as  she  linked  her  bony 
little  arm  through  Lena's  when  they  were  outside  in 
the  starlight. 

"  Come  now — you  shut  up !  "  retorted  Lena.  "  Miss 
Laura's  given  us  a  dandy  time  to-night,  an'  I  ain't 
goin'  back  on  her  the  minute  I'm  out  of  her  house. 
An'  I  didn't  think  it  of  you,  Eva  Bicknell." 

"  Who's  goin'  back  on  her?  "  Eva's  hot  temper  took 
fire  at  once.  "  Shut  up  yourself,  Lena  Barton !  "  she 
flared.  "  I  ain't  goin'  back  on  Miss  Laura  any  more 
than  you  are.  Mebbe  you're  so  flush  that  you  can 
drop  pennies  an'  nickels  'round  promiscuous,  but  me — 
well,  I  ain't — that's  all,"  and  she  marched  on  in  sulky 
silence. 

On  the  next  Wednesday  evening,  some  of  the  girls 
came  to  the  Camp  Fire  room,  and  played  games,  which 
some  enjoyed  and  others  yawned  over,  and  made 
fudge  which  all  seemed  to  enjoy.  On  the  next  Wed- 
nesday they  sang  for  a  while,  Laura  accompany- 
ing them  on  the  piano,  and  Rose  Anderson  played  for 
them  on  her  violin.  After  that  they  sat  on  the  floor 
before  the  fire  and  talked ;  but  Laura  was  a  little  doubt- 
ful about  these  evenings.  She  feared  that  these  quiet 
pleasures  would  not  hold  some  of  the  girls  against  the 
alluring  delights  of  dances  and  moving  pictures  and 
boys. 

Meantime  she  did  not  forget  Elizabeth,  and  on  the 
first  opportunity  she  went  to  see  Mrs.  Page.       Sadie 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  111 

opened  the  door,  and  was  present  at  the  interview. 
She  was  evidently  very  conscious  of  the  fact  that  her 
braids  were  now  wound  about  her  head  and  adorned 
with  a  stiff  white  bow  that  stuck  out  several  inches  on 
either  side. 

Mrs.  Page  received  her  visitor  coldly,  understanding 
that  she  came  to  intercede  for  Elizabeth.  She  said 
that  Elizabeth's  father  did  not  want  his  daughter  to  go 
out  evenings ;  that  she  had  a  good  home  and  must  be 
contented  to  stay  in  it  "  as  my  own  children  do,"  she 
ended  with  a  glance  at  Sadie,  who  sat  on  the  edge  of 
a  chair  with  much  the  aspect  of  a  terrier  watching  a 
rat-hole.  When  Miss  Laura  asked  if  she  might  see 
Elizabeth,  Sadie  tossed  her  head  and  coughed  behind 
her  handkerchief,  as  her  mother  answered  that  Eliza- 
beth was  busy  and  could  not  leave  her  work. 

"  But  wouldn't  she  do  her  work  all  the  better  if  she 
had  a  little  change  now  and  then,  and  the  companion- 
ship of  other  girls  ?  "  Laura  urged  gently. 

"  She  has  the  companionship  of  her  sister — she  must 
be  satisfied  with  that,"  was  the  uncompromising  reply. 

With  a  sigh,  Laura  rose  to  leave,  but  as  she  glanced 
at  Sadie's  triumphant  face,  she  had  an  inspiration. 
The  child  was  certainly  unattractive,  but  perhaps  all 
the  more  for  that  reason  she  ought  to  have  a  chance — 
a  chance  which  might  possibly  mean  a  chance  for 
Elizabeth  too.  She  smiled  at  the  girl  and  Laura's 
smile  was  winning  enough  to  disarm  a  worse  child' 
than  Sadie. 

"  If  you  do  not  think  it  best  for  Elizabeth  to  attend 
our  Council  meetings  regularly,  perhaps  you  would  be 
willing  to  let  her  come  this  next  Saturday  and  bring 
her  sister.     After  the  business  is  over,  we  are  going 


112  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

to  have  a  fudge  party.  I  have  a  little  upstairs  kitchen 
just  for  the  girls  to  use  whenever  they  like.  I  think 
your  daughter  might  enjoy  it — if  she  cared  to  come — 
with  Elizabeth." 

Marvellous  was  the  effect  of  those  few  words  on 
Sadie.  Seeing  a  refusal  on  her  mother's  lips,  she  burst 
out  eagerly,  "  O  mother,  I  want  to  go — I  want  to  go ! 
You  must  let  me." 

Taken  entirely  by  surprise,  Mrs.  Page  hesitated — 
and  was  lost.  What  Sadie  wanted,  her  mother  wanted 
for  her,  and  she  saw  that  Sadie's  heart  was  set  on 
accepting  this  invitation.  "  I  suppose  they  might  go, 
just  for  this  once,"  she  yielded  reluctantly. 

Laura  allowed  no  time  for  reconsideration.  "  I  shall 
expect  both  of  them  then,  on  Saturday,"  she  said  and 
turned  to  go.  She  longed  to  look  back  towards  the 
kitchen  where  she  felt  sure  that  Elizabeth  must  have 
been  wistfully  listening,  but  Mrs.  Page  and  Sadie 
following  her  to  the  door,  gave  her  no  chance  for  even 
a  backward  glance. 

"  Good-bye,"  Sadie  called  after  her  as  she  went 
down  the  steps,  and  the  child's  small  foxy  face  was 
alight  with  anticipation. 

Slamming  the  door  after  the  caller,  Sadie  flew  to  the 
kitchen. 

"  There  now,  Elizabeth,"  she  cried,  "  I'm  going  to 
her  house  next  Saturday  and  you're  going — you  can 
just  thank  me  for  that  too.  Mother  wouldn't  have  let 
you  go  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me." 

Elizabeth's  face  brightened,  but  there  was  a  little 
shadow  on  it  too.  Of  course  it  was  better  to  go  with 
Sadie  than  not  to  go  at  all  — O,  much  better  — but 
still 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  113 

When  Saturday  came  Sadie  was  in  a  whirl  of 
excitement.  She  even  offered — an  unheard-of  conces- 
sion— to  wipe  the  supper  dishes  so  that  Elizabeth  might 
get  through  her  work  the  sooner,  and  she  plastered  a 
huge  white  bow  across  the  back  of  her  head,  and  pulled 
down  the  skirt  of  her  dress  to  make  it  as  long  as 
possible.  Sadie  would  gladly  have  thrown  away  three 
years  of  her  life  so  that  she  might  be  sixteen,  and 
really  grown  up  that  very  night. 

Olga  was  waiting  at  the  corner  for  them,  Miss 
Laura  having  told  her  that  Elizabeth  was  to  go.  Her 
scathing  glance  would  have  had  a  subduing  effect  on 
most  girls,  but  not  on  Sadie !  Sadie  did  most  of  the 
talking  as  the  three  walked  on  together,  but  the  other 
two  did  not  care.  It  was  enough  for  Elizabeth  to  be 
with  Olga  again,  and  as  for  Olga,  she  was  half 
frightened  and  half  glad  to  find  a  little  glow  of  hap- 
piness deep  down  in  her  heart.  She  was  afraid  to  let 
herself  be  even  a  little  happy. 

When  the  three  entered  the  Camp  Fire  room  Laura 
met  them  with  an  exclamation  of  pleasure.  "  We've 
missed  you  so  at  the  Councils,  Elizabeth,"  she  said, 
"  but  it's  good  to  have  you  here  to-night,  isn't  it,  Olga  ? 
And  Miss  Sadie  is  very  welcome  too." 

Sadie  smiled  and  executed  her  best  bow,  then  drew 
herself  up  to  look  as  tall  as  "  Miss  "  Sadie  should  be ; 
but  the  rest  of  the  evening  her  eyes  and  ears  were  so 
busy  that  for  once  her  tongue  was  silent.  She  vowed 
to  herself  that  she  would  give  her  mother  no  peace 
until  she — Sadie — was  a  really  truly  Camp  Fire  Girl 
like  these. 

When  in  the  last  hour  they  were  all  gathered  on  the 
floor  before  the  fire,   Mary  Hastings  asked,   "  Miss 


114  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Laura,  have  you  decided  yet  what  our  special  work  is 
to  be — the  '  service  for  somebody  else '  ?  "  she  added 
with  a  glance  at  the  words  over  the  mantelpiece. 

"  That  is  for  you  girls  to  decide,"  Laura  returned. 
"  Have  you  any  suggestion,  Mary  ?  " 

"  I've  been  wondering  if  we  couldn't  help  support 
some  little  child — maybe  a  sick  child  in  a  hospital,  or 
an  orphan." 

"  Gracious !  That  would  take  a  pile  of  money," 
objected  Louise  Johnson,  "  and  I'm  always  dead  broke 
a  week  after  payday." 

"  There  are  fifteen  of  us — it  wouldn't  be  so  much, 
divided  up,"  Mary  returned. 

"  Sixteen,  Mary — you  aren't  going  to  leave  me  out, 
are  you?"  Miss  Laura  said. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  lovely,"  cried  Bessie  Carroll, 
"  if  we  could  find  a  dear  little  girl  baby  and  adopt  her 
— make  her  a  Camp  Fire  baby." 

"  Huh!  "  sniffed  Lena  Barton.  "  If  you  had  half  a 
dozen  kids  at  home  I  reckon  you  wouldn't  be  wanting 
to  adopt  any  more." 

"  Right  you  are !  "  added  Eva  Bicknell,  who  was 
the  oldest  of  eight. 

"  We  might  '  adopt '  an  old  lady  in  some  Home,  and 
visit  her  and  do  things  for  her,"  suggested  Frances 
Chapin.  "  There  are  some  lonely  ones  in  the  Old 
Ladies'  Home  where  I  go  sometimes." 

But  the  idea  of  a  pretty  baby  appealed  more  to  the 
majority  of  the  girls. 

"  O,  I'd  rather  take  a  baby.  We  could  make  cute 
little  dresses  for  her,"  Rose  Anderson  put  in,  "  all 
lacey,  you  know." 

"  Say — where's  the  money  comin'  from  for  the  lacey 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  115 

dresses  and  things  you're  talkin'  about  ?  "  demanded 
Lena  Barton  abruptly. 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence.  Then  Mary  threw 
back  a  counter  question.  "  How  much  did  you  spend 
for  moving  pictures  and  candy,  last  week,  Lena 
Barton?" 

"  I  d'know — mebbe  a  quarter,  mebbe  two.  What  of 
it?  "  Lena  retorted,  her  red  head  lifted  defiantly. 

"  Well  now — couldn't  you  give  up  two  picture  shows 
a  week,  for  the  Camp  Fire  baby?"  Mary  demanded. 
"  If  sixteen  of  us  give  ten  cents  a  week  we  shall  have 
a  dollar  sixty.  That  would  be  more  than  six  dollars 
a  month." 

"  Gracious !  Money  talks !  "  put  in  Louise.  "  Think 
of  this  crowd  dropping  over  six  dollars  a  month  for 
picture  shows  and  such.  No  wonder  they're  two  in  a 
block  on  the  avenue." 

"  You  see,"  Laura  said,  "  we  could  easily  provide  for 
some  little  child,  at  least  in  part.  Girls,  I'd  like  to  tell 
you  about  one  I  saw  at  the  Children's  Hospital  yester- 
day.    Would  you  care  to  hear  about  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  do  tell  us,"  the  girls  begged. 

"  He  is  no  blue-eyed  baby,  but  a  very  plain  ordinary- 
looking  little  chap,  nine  years  old,  whose  mother  died 
a  few  weeks  ago,  leaving  him  entirely  alone  in  the 
world.  Think  of  it,  girls,  a  nine-year-old  boy  without 
any  one  to  care  for  him !  He's  lame  too — but  he  is  the 
bravest  little  soul !  The  nurse  told  me  that  they 
thought  it  was  because  he  was  so  homesick — or  rather 
I  suppose  mother-sick — that  he  is  not  getting  on  as 
well  as  he  should." 

"  O,  the  poor  little  fellow !  "  Frances  Chapin  said 
softly,  thinking  of  her  nine-year-old  brother. 


116  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Tell  us  more  about  him,  Miss  Laura,"  Rose  An- 
derson begged.     "  Did  you  talk  with  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  stayed  with  him  for  half  an  hour,  and  I 
promised  to  see  him  again  to-morrow.  He  wanted  a 
book — about  soldiers.  I  wonder  if  any  of  you  would 
care  to  go  with  me.  You  might  possibly  find  your 
blue-eyed  baby  there;  and  anyhow,  the  children  there 
love  to  have  visitors — especially  young  ones." 

Two  of  the  High  School  girls  spoke  together.  "  I'd 
like  to  go." 

"  And  I  too,"  added  Alice  Reynolds,  the  third. 

"  I  guess  I'd  like  to,  maybe — if  there  isn't  anything 
catching  there."  It  was  pretty  little  Annie  Pearson 
who  said  that. 

"  I'd  love  to  go,  but  I  can't,"  Elizabeth  whispered  to 
Olga,  who  frowned  at  her  and  demanded, 

"  What  do  you  want  to  go  for  ?  " 

"  I'd  so  love  to  do  something  for  that  little  fellow," 
Elizabeth  answered.  "  I've  been  lonesome  too — al- 
ways— till  now." 

"  Humph !  "  grunted  Olga,  the  hardness  melting  out 
of  her  black  eyes  as  she  looked  into  Elizabeth's  wistful 
blue  ones. 

It  was  finally  agreed  that  the  three  High  School 
girls,  Frances  Chapin,  Elsie  Harding,  and  Alice 
Reynolds,  with  Mary  Hastings,  Annie  Pearson,  and 
Rose,  should  go  with  Miss  Laura  to  the  hospital. 

"  I  c'n  see  kids  enough  at  home  any  time,"  Lena 
Barton  declared  airily.  "  I'd  rather  walk  down  the 
avenue  on  Sunday  than  go  to  any  hospital." 

"  I  guess  I'll  be  excused  too,"  said  Louise  Johnson. 
"  Hospital  visiting  isn't  exactly  in  my  line.  I've  a 
hunch  that  I'd  be  out  of  place  amongst  a  lot  of  sick 


ELIZABETH  AT  HOME  117 

kiddies.  But  I'll  agree  to  be  satisfied  with  any  blue- 
eyed  baby  girl  you  and  Miss  Laura  pick  out  for  our 
Camp  Fire  Kid.  Say,  girlies  " — she  looked  around 
the  group — "  I  move  we  make  those  seven  our  choos- 
ing committee — Miss  Laura,  chairman,  of  course." 

"  But,  Johnny,"  one  girl  objected,  "  maybe  they 
won't  find  any  girl  to  fit  our  pattern  over  at  the 
hospital." 

"  It  is  not  at  all  likely  that  we  shall,"  Laura  hastened 
to  add,  "  and  if  we  did,  it  would  probably  be  one  with 
parents  or  relatives  to  care  for  it  after  it  leaves  the 
hospital." 

"  Blue-eyed  angel  babies,  with  dimples,  don't  come 
in  every  package.  I  s'pose  you'd  want  one  with 
dimples  too?  "  Eva  Bicknell  scoffed. 

"  O,  of  course,  dimples.  Might  as  well  have  all 
the  ear-marks  of  a  beauty  to  begin  with,  anyhow," 
giggled  Louise.  "  She'll  probably  develop  into  a 
homely  little  freckle-faced  imp  by  the  time  she's  six, 
anyhow." 

"  There's  worse  things  in  the  world  than  freckles," 
snapped  Lena  Barton,  whose  perky  little  nose  was  well 
spattered  with  them. 

"  So  there  are,  Lena — so  there  are,"  Louise  teased. 
"  Yours  will  probably  fade  out  by  the  time  you're 
forty." 

A  cuckoo  clock  called  the  hour,  and  the  girls  reluc- 
tantly agreed  that  it  was  time  to  go.  But  first  Laura, 
her  arms  around  as  many  as  she  could  gather  into 
them,  with  a  few  gentle  tender  words  brought  their 
thoughts  back  to  the  deep  meaning  of  the  thing  they 
were  planning  to  do — trying  to  make  them  realize 
their   opportunity    for   service,   and   the   far-reaching 


118  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

results  that  must  follow  if  a  little  life  should  come 
under  their  care  and  influence. 

For  once  Louise  was  silent  and  thoughtful  as  she 
went  away,  and  even  Lena  Barton  was  more  subdued 
than  usual  until,  at  last,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
she  flung  out  the  vague  remark, 

"After  all,  what's  the  use?"  and  thereupon  re- 
bounded to  her  usual  gay  slangy  self. 

But  Elizabeth  went  home  with  Miss  Laura's  words 
echoing  in  her  heart.  "  I  don't  suppose  I  can  do  much 
for  our  Camp  Fire  baby,"  she  told  herself,  "  but  there's 
Molly.  Maybe  I  can  do  more  for  her  and — and  for 
Sadie  and  the  boys — perhaps." 


IX 
JIM 

IN  the  first  ward  of  the  Children's  Hospital  the 
next  afternoon,  No.  20  lay  very  still — strangely 
still  for  a  nine-year-old  boy  —  watching  the 
door.  He  had  watched  it  all  day,  although  he  knew 
that  visitors'  hours  were  from  two  to  four,  and  none 
would  be  admitted  earlier.  No.  18  in  the  next  cot 
asked  him  a  question  once,  but  No.  20  only  shook 
his  head  wearily.  Some  of  the  children  had  books 
and  games,  but  they  soon  tired  of  them,  and  lay 
idly  staring  about  the  long,  sunny  room,  or  looking 
out  at  the  sky  and  the  trees,  or  watching  the  door. 
Sometimes  mothers  or  fathers  came  through  that  door, 
and  if  you  hadn't  any  of  your  own,  at  any  rate  you 
could  look  at  those  that  came  to  see  other  fellows, 
and  sometimes  these  mothers  had  a  word  or  a  smile 
for  others  as  well  as  their  own  boys.  No.  20, 
however,  didn't  want  any  other  fellow's  mother  to 
smile  down  at  him — no  indeed,  that  was  the  last  thing 
in  the  world  he  wanted — yet.  He  wished  sometimes, 
just  for  a  moment,  that  there  weren't  any  mothers  to 
come,  since  the  one  could  never  come  to  him  again. 
But  they  did  come  and  smile  at  him,  and  pat  his  head — 
these  mothers  of  the  other  boys — came  drawn  by  the 
hungry  longing  in  his  eyes — and  he  set  his  teeth  and 
clinched  his  hands  under  the  bedclothes,  and  when 
they  went  away  gulped  down   the  great  lump  that 

119 


120  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

always  jumped  into  his  throat,  all  in  a  minute — but  he 
never  cried.  One  day  when  a  kind-hearted  nurse 
asked  him  about  his  mother,  he  bore  her  questioning 
as  long  as  he  could,  and  then  he  struck  at  her  fiercely 
and  slipped  right  down  under  the  bedclothes  where 
nobody  could  see  him;  but  he  didn't  cry,  though  he 
shook  and  shook  for  a  long  time  after  she  went 
away. 

But — Miss  Laura — she  was  different.  She  didn't 
kiss  him,  nor  pat  him,  nor  ask  fool  questions.  She 
just  talked  to  him — well,  the  right  way.  And  she'd 
promised  to  come  again  to-day.  Maybe  she'd  forget 
though ;  people  did  forget  things  they'd  promised — 
only  somehow,  she  didn't  look  like  the  forgetting  kind. 
And  she  was  awful  pretty — most  the  prettiest  lady  he 
had  ever  seen.  But  hospital  hours  were  so  dreadfully 
long !  Seemed  like  a  hundred  hours  since  breakfast. 
Ah !  He  lifted  his  head  and  looked  eagerly  towards  the 
door — somebody  was  coming  in.  O,  only  some  other 
fellow's  mother.  He  dropped  down  again,  choking 
back  an  impatient  groan  that  had  almost  slipped  out. 
When  the  next  mother  came  in  he  turned  his  back  on 
the  door,  but  soon  he  was  watching  it  again.  A  half- 
hour  dragged  wearily  by ;  then  a  crowd  of  girls 
fluttered  through  the  doorway.  No.  20  gazed  at 
them  listlessly  until  one  behind  slipped  past  the  others ; 
then  his  eyes  widened  and  his  lips  twitched  as  if  they 
had  almost  a  mind  to  smile,  for  here  was  the  pretty 
lady  coming  straight  to  him. 

"  Jim  "  she  said,  shaking  hands  with  him  just  as  if 
he  had  been  a  man,  "  I've  brought  some  of  my  girls  to 
see  you  to-day.  I  hope  you  are  glad  to  see  us  all,  but 
you  needn't  say  you  are  if  you  are  not." 


JIM  121 

Jim  didn't  say — and  Rose  Anderson  laughed  softly. 
Jim  flashed  a  glance  at  her,  but  he  saw  at  once  that  it 
wasn't  a  mean  laugh — just  a  girly  giggle,  and  he  man- 
fully ignored  it. 

"  I  have  to  speak  to  Charley  Smith  over  there," 
Miss  Laura  went  on,  "  but  I'll  be  back  in  a  few 
minutes." 

As  she  crossed  to  the  other  cot,  Frances  Chapin 
slipped  into  the  chair  by  Jim's — there  was  only  one 
chair  between  each  two  cots.  "  I  think  you  are  about 
nine,  aren't  you,  Jim?  "  she  asked. 

"  Goin'  on  ten,"  Jim  corrected  stoutly. 

"  I've  a  brother  going  on  ten,"  she  said. 

Jim  looked  at  her  with  quick  interest.  "  Tell  about 
him,"  he  ordered.     "What's  his  name?" 

"  David  Chapin.     He's  in  the  sixth  grade " 

"  So'm  I — I  mean  I  was  'fore  I  came  here,"  Jim 
interrupted.     "What  else?" 

" — and  he's — he's  going  to  be  a  Boy  Scout  as  soon 
as  he's  twelve." 

Jim's  plain  little  faCe  brightened  into  keen  interest. 
"  That's  bully!  "  he  cried.  "  I'm  going  to  be  a  Scout 
soon's  I'm  big  enough — if  I  can."  The  wistful  long- 
ing in  the  last  words  brought  a  mist  into  Frances's 
eyes,  but  Jim  did  not  see  it.  He  was  looking  at  the 
other  girls.  "  Any  of  the  rest  of  you  got  brothers?  " 
he  demanded. 

"  I  have  one,  but  he's  a  big  fellow,  twice  as  old  as 
you  are,"  Alice  Reynolds  said. 

"  And  I've  six,"  Mary  Hastings  told  him.  "  Two 
of  them  are  Scouts." 

"  Fine !  "  exulted  Jim.  "  Say — tell  me  what  they 
do,  all  about  it,"  he  pleaded,  and  sitting  down  on  the 


122  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

edge  of  his  cot,  Mary  told  him  everything  she  could 
think  of  about  the  scouting. 

When  Miss  Laura  came  back  Jim's  face  was  radiant. 
"  She's  been  telling  me  about  her  brothers — they're 
Boy  Scouts,"  he  cried  eagerly,  pointing  a  stubby  finger 
at  Mary.  "  I  wish,"  he  looked  pleadingly  into  Mary's 
eyes,  "  I  do  wish  they'd  come  and  see  me ;  but  I  guess 
boys  don't  come  to  hospitals  'thout  they  have  to,"  he 
ended  with  a  sigh. 

"  I'll  get  them  to  come  if  I  can,"  Mary  promised, 
"  but " 

"  I  know,"  Jim  nodded,  "  I  guess  they  won't  have 
time.  There's  so  many  things  for  boys  to  do  out- 
doors !  " 

"  Jim,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "  there  are  so  many  things 
for  you  to  do  outdoors  too.  You  must  get  well  as 
fast  as  you  can  to  be  at  them." 

Jim's  lips  took  on  a  most  unchildlike  set,  and  his  eyes 
searched  her  face  with  a  look  she  could  not  under- 
stand.    "  I — I  d'know "  he  said  vaguely. 

He  could  not  put  into  words  his  fear  and  dread  of 
the  time  when  he  must  go  out  into  some  Home  where 
he  would  be  only  one  of  a  hundred  boys  and  all  alone 
in  a  big  lonesome  world.  That  was  the  black  dread 
that  weighed  on  Jim's  heart  night  and  day.  He  had 
seen  that  long  procession  of  girls  and  boys  from  the 
Orphan  Asylum  going  back  from  church  on  Sun- 
days, the  girls  all  in  white  dresses,  the  boys  in  blue 
denim  suits,  all  just  alike  except  for  size.  He  had 
peeped  through  knotholes  in  the  high  fence  that  sur- 
rounded the  Asylum  yard  too,  and  had  seen  the  boys 
playing  there  on  weekdays ;  and  some  not  playing,  but 
standing  off  by  themselves  looking  so  awful  lonesome. 


JIM  123 

Jim  had  always  pitied  those  lonesome-looking  ones. 
More  than  once  he  had  poked  a  stick  of  chewing-gum 
through  a  knothole  to  one  of  them — a  little  chap  with 
frightened  blue  eyes.  Jim  felt  that  he'd  almost  rather 
die  than  go  to  the  Asylum ;  and  he'd  heard  the  nurse 
tell  Charley  Smith's  mother  that  he'd  have  to  go 
there  when  he  got  well.  That  was  why  Jim  was  in  no 
hurry  to  get  well. 

The  girls  all  shook  hands  with  him  before  they  went 
off  to  search  the  other  wards  for  their  blue-eyed  baby. 
Miss  Laura  did  not  go  with  the  girls ;  she  stayed  with 
Jim,  and  somehow,  before  long,  he  was  telling  her  all 
about  the  Asylum  boys  and  how  he  dreaded  to  get 
well  and  go  there  to  live  till  he  was  fourteen.  And, 
unconsciously,  as  he  told  it  all,  his  stubby  little  fingers 
crept  into  Miss  Laura's  hand  that  closed  over  them 
with  a  warm  pressure  very  comforting  to  Jim. 

And  then — then  a  wonderful  thing  happened,  for 
Miss  Laura  put  her  head  down  close  to  his  and 
whispered,  "  Jim,  you  shall  never  go  to  the  Asylum,  I 
promise  you  that.  If  you  will  try  very  hard  to  get 
well,  I'll  find  a  home  for  you  somewhere,  and  I'll  take 
care  of  you  until  you  can  take  care  of  yourself." 

Jim  caught  his  breath  and  his  eyes  seemed  looking 
through  hers  deep  into  her  heart,  to  see  if  this  incred- 
ible thing  could  be  true.  What  little  colour  there  was 
in  his  face  faded  slowly  out  of  it  and  his  lips  quivered 
as  he  whispered,  "  You — you  ain't — jest  foolin'  ?  You 
mean  it,  honest  Injun?  " 

"  Yes,  Jim — honest." 

He  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture.  "  Cross  your 
heart !  "  he  ordered  breathlessly. 


124.  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

She  made  the  sign  that  children  make.  "  Cross  my 
heart,  Jim.     You  are  my  boy  now,"  she  said. 

With  a  long,  happy  breath  Jim  fell  back  on  his 
pillow.  His  eyes  began  to  shine,  and  a  spot  of  red 
burned  in  each  thin  cheek.  "  O  gee !  "  he  cried  ex- 
ultantly, and  again,  "  O  gee!  I'll  get  well  in  a  hurry 
now,  Miss  Laura."  Then  eagerly,  "  Where'll  I 
live?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  I'll  find  a  place,"  she  prom- 
ised. 

He  nodded,  happily  content  just  then  to  leave  that 
in  her  hands. 

"  An'  I'll  grow  big  soon,"  he  crowed,  "  and  I  can 
earn  a  lot  of  money  when  I'm  well,  carryin'  papers 
an' — an'  other  ways.  An'  you'll  let  me  be  a  Boy  Scout 
soon's  I'm  big  enough,  an'  a  soldier  when  I  get  over 
being  lame  ?  " 

Laura  nodded,  and  again  Jim  drew  a  long  rapturous 
breath.  When  Laura  went  away  his  eyes  followed 
her,  and  as  from  the  door  she  looked  back  at  him,  he 
waved  his  hand  to  her  and  then  settled  down  on  his 
pillow  to  dream  happy  waking  dreams.  He  was  some- 
body's boy  once  more. 

Laura  found  the  girls  waiting  for  her  in  the  recep- 
tion room. 

"  Did  you  find  your  blue-eyed  baby  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  We  found  one "  Alice  Reynolds  began,  and 

Rose  broke  in, 

"  But,  O  Miss  Laura,  her  mother  was  with  her  and 
she  wouldn't  hear  of  giving  her  up.  I  don't  wonder — 
such  a  darling  as  she  is !  " 

"  You  can  try  at  the  Orphan  Asylum,"  Miss  Laura 


JIM  125 

said,  the  words  sending  her  thoughts  back  in  a  flash 
to  Jim. 

"  Miss  Laura,  I  wish  we  could  have  Jim.  I  think 
he's  a  dear!"  Mary  Hastings  said  as  they  left  the 
hospital. 

"  Jim's  pre-empted.  He's  my  boy  now,"  Laura 
answered  quickly. 

"  O  Miss  Laura,  I  wanted  him  too  for  our  Camp 
Fire  child,"  Frances  said.  "  Are  you  really  going  to 
adopt  him — have  him  live  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Frances,  about  the  living.  When  I 
found  that  he  was  fairly  dying  of  loneliness  and  dread 
of  the  Orphan  Asylum,  I  just  had  to  do  something;  so 
I  told  him  he  should  be  my  boy  and  I  would  take  care 
of  him.  I  know  my  father  won't  mind  the  expense, 
but  he  may  object  to  having  the  boy  live  with 
us.  Of  course,  if  he  does  I  shall  find  a  good  home  for 
him  elsewhere." 

"  But,  Miss  Laura,  why  can't  we  all  '  adopt '  him  ?  " 
Frances  pleaded.  "  I'd  so  much  rather  have  him  than 
any  baby.  And  there  are  always  people  ready  to 
adopt  pretty  blue-eyed  baby  girls,  but  they  don't  want 
just  boys — like  Jim." 

"  That's  true,"  Alice  Reynolds  agreed.  "  My  mother 
is  a  director  at  the  Orphan  Asylum,  and  she  says  nine 
out  of  ten  who  go  there  for  a  child  to  adopt,  want  a 
pretty  baby  girl." 

"  But  you  can  find  some  other  boy  for  the  Camp 
Fire,"  Miss  Laura  returned. 

"  Not  another  Jim.  Please  share  him  with  us,  any- 
how, Miss  Laura,"  Alice  urged. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  selfish  about  it,"  Laura  replied, 
"  but  somehow  Jim  has  crept  into  my  heart  and  I 


126  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

thought  I  would  take  him  for  my  own  special  Camp 
Fire  '  service.'  And  perhaps  the  other  girls  won't 
be  willing  to  give  up  their  pretty  baby." 

" ! — rd  hate  to,  though  I  like  Jim  too,"  Rose 
admitted. 

"  You  couldn't  make  pretty  lacey  dresses  for  Jim," 
Laura  reminded  her  with  a  little  laugh.  "  Rose  is 
hankering  for  a  live  doll  to  dress,  girls,  so  you'd  better 
wait  and  see  what  the  others  say  about  it." 

"  When  can  Jim  leave  the  hospital  ?  "  Alice  inquired. 

"  To  judge  from  his  face  when  I  left  him,  he  will 
get  well  quickly,  now,"  Miss  Laura  answered. 

And  he  did.  The  next  time  she  went  to  see  him, 
he  welcomed  her  with  a  beaming  smile.  "  I'm  getting 
well,"  he  exulted.  "  She  says  I  can  sit  up  to-morrow," 
he  nodded  towards  the  nurse. 

"  He  is  certainly  better,"  the  nurse  agreed.  "  He 
has  seemed  like  another  boy  since  Sunday.  How  did 
you  work  such  magic,  Miss  Haven  ?  " 

Laura  looked  at  Jim  and  his  eyes  met  hers  steadily. 
"  Hasn't  he  told  you  ?  "  she  asked  the  nurse. 

"  He  has  told  me  nothing." 

Laura  smiled  at  him  as  she  explained,  "  Jim  is  my 
boy  now — we  agreed  on  that,  Sunday.  When  he  leaves 
the  hospital  he  is  coming  to  me." 

"  Jim,  I  congratulate  you.  You  are  a  lucky  boy," 
said  the  nurse,  who  knew  all  about  Judge  Haven  and 
his  daughter. 

"  I  think  I  too  am  to  be  congratulated,"  said  Laura 
quickly,  and  the  nurse  nodded. 

"  Yes,  Jim  is  a  good  boy,"  she  answered.  Then  she 
went  away  and  left  the  two  together.  This  time  Jim 
did  not  talk  very  much.     It  was  enough  for  him  to 


JIM  127 

have  his  pretty  lady  where  he  could  look  at  her,  and 
be  sure  it  was  not  all  a  dream. 

Not  many  days  later,  after  a  telephone  conference 
with  the  nurse,  Laura  went  to  the  hospital  again.  She 
found  the  boy  lying  there  with  a  look  of  patient  endur- 
ance in  his  eyes,  but  they  widened  with  half-incredu- 
lous joy  when  she  told  him  that  she  had  come  to  take 
him  away. 

"Not — not  nozv!"  he  cried  out,  with  a  little  break 
in  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  now — just  as  you  are.  We  are  going  to  wrap 
you  in  a  blanket  and  put  you  into  a  carriage,  and 
before  you  have  time  to  get  tired  we  shall  be  home." 

"  Home !  "  echoed  Jim,  his  eyes  shining. 

"What  makes  you  look  so  sober?"  Miss  Laura 
asked  him  as  they  drove  away.  "  You  aren't  sorry  to 
leave  the  hospital  ?  " 

"Sorry?"  Jim  gave  a  shaky  little  laugh,  then 
suddenly  was  grave  again.  "  Yes,  I'm  sorry,  but  it's 
for  all  the  other  fellows  that  nobody's  coining  for,"  he 
explained. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  taken  them  all  home  with  us," 
Laura  answered  quickly.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do, 
Jim.  If  you'll  get  well  very  fast,  maybe  you  and  I 
can  give  a  little  Christmas  party  in  your  ward,  to  those 
other  boys  who  have  to  stay  there." 

"Hang  up  stockin's  an' — an'  a  tree  an'  all?"  Jim 
questioned  breathlessly. 

"  Yes.     Wouldn't  you  like  that  ?  " 

"Gee!"  was  Jim's  rapturous  comment.  "You  bet 
I'll  get  well  fast — if  I  can,"  the  afterthought  in  a 
lower  tone. 

The  room  Laura  had  prepared  for  the  boy  had  been 


128  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

a  nursery,  and  had  a  frieze,  representing  in  gay 
colours  the  old  Mother  Goose  stories.  Jim  was  put 
on  a  cot  beside  the  open  fire,  where  he  lay  very  still, 
but  it  was  not  the  dull  hopeless  stillness  of  the  hospital. 
Now  he  was  resting,  and  his  eyes  travelled  happily 
along  the  wall  as  he  picked  out  the  old  familiar  char- 
acters. 

"  Makes  me  feel  like  a  little  kid — seeing  all  those," 
he  said,  pointing  at  them. 

The  thin  white  face  and  small  figure  under  the 
bedclothes  looked  like  a  very  "  little  kid  "  still,  Laura 
thought.  The  gray  eyes  swept  over  the  large  sunny 
room  and  then  back  to  Miss  Laura's  face,  and  suddenly 
Jim's  lips  trembled. 

"I — I — I  think  you're  bully!"  he  broke  out,  and 
instantly  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  was  still 
again.  Laura  slipped  quietly  out  of  the  room.  When 
she  returned  a  few  minutes  later,  she  brought  a  supper 
tray. 

"  You  and  I  are  going  to  have  supper  here  to-night, 
Jim,"  she  announced  cheerfully,  "  because  my  father 
is  away,  and  I  should  be  lonesome  all  alone  downstairs 
and  you  might  be  lonesome  up  here.  You  must  have 
a  famous  appetite,  you  know,  if  you  are  to  get 
well  and  strong  for  that  Christmas  party  at  the  hos- 
pital." 

"  I'm  hungry,  all  right,"  Jim  declared,  his  eyes 
lingering  on  the  tempting  food  so  daintily  served ;  but 
after  all  he  did  not  eat  very  much. 

After  supper  he  lay  quietly  watching  the  leaping 
flames  for  a  long  time.  Suddenly  he  broke  the  silence 
with  a  question. 

"I'll  be  back  there  then?" 


JIM  129 

"Back  where,  Jim?  I  don't  understand,"  Miss 
Laura  said. 

"  At  the  hospital — when  we  have  that  Christmas 
party." 

"  Oh.  Why,  yes,  of  course,  you  and  I  will  both  be 
there." 

"Yes,  but  I  mean — I  mean "  Jim's  eyes  were 

very  anxious,  "  will  I  be  back  there  to  stay,  or  where 
will  I  be  stayin'  ?  " 

Laura's  hand  dropped  softly  over  one  of  his  and 
held  it  in  a  warm  clasp.  "  No,  Jim,  you  won't  go  back 
there  to  stay — ever — not  if  you  do  your  best  to  get 
well,  as  of  course  you  are  going  to.  I  told  you  I  would 
find  a  good  home  for  you  and  I  will,  but  there's 
plenty  of  time  to  think  of  that  before  your  two  weeks 
here  are  over." 

"  You're  the — the  best  ever,  Miss  Laura,"  Jim  said. 
"  I — I  didn't  s'pose,"  he  stumbled  on,  trying  to  put  his 
feeling  into  words,  "  ladies  like  you  ever — cared  about 
boys  that  get  left  out  of  things — like  I  have." 

Laura  longed  to  put  her  arms  about  him  and  hold 
him  close,  but  there  was  something  about  the  sturdy 
little  fellow  that  warned  her,  so,  waiting  a  moment  to 
steady  her  voice,  she  answered,  "  O  yes,  there  are 
many  that  care  and  do  all  they  can ;  but  you  see  there 
are  so  very  many  little  fellows  that — get  left  out,  Jim." 

Jim  nodded,  his  face  very  sober.  "  I  wonder  why," 
he  said,  voicing  the  world-old  query. 

When  she  had  settled  him  for  the  night,  she  stood 
looking  down  at  the  dark  head  on  the  pillow.  "  Shall 
I  put  the  light  out,  or  leave  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Just  as  you  like,  Miss  Laura,"  he  said,  but  she 
thought  there  was  a  little  anxiety  in  his  eyes. 


130  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  me,  of  course.  I  want 
it  whichever  way  you  like  best.  I  know  you  are  not 
afraid  of  the  dark." 

A  moment's  silence,  then  in  a  very  small  voice, 
"  Yes — I  am — Miss  Laura." 

"Afraid!"    Miss  Laura  caught  herself  up  quickly. 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Jim  in  a  still  smaller  voice,  his  eyes 
hidden  now. 

"  O — then  I'll  leave  the  light,  of  course."  But  there 
was  just  a  shade  of  disappointment  in  Miss  Laura's 
voice  and  Jim  caught  it.  "  Good-night,  dear,"  she 
added,  with  a  light  touch  on  the  straight  brown  hair. 

"  G'night,"  came  in  a  muffled  voice  from  the  pillow. 

Laura  turned  away,  but  before  she  reached  the  stairs 
the  boy  called  her.     She  went  back  at  once. 

"  What  is  it,  Jim?     Do  you  want  anything?  " 

"  Yes'm,  the  light.     I  guess — you  better  put  it  out." 

"  Not  if  you  are  afraid  in  the  dark,  Jim." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Laura,  that's  why." 

"  But  I  don't  understand.  Can't  you  tell  me  ?  "  she 
urged  gently. 

Jim  gulped  down  a  troublesome  something  in  his 
throat  before  he  said  in  a  whisper,  "  Put  your  head 
down  close,  Miss  Laura." 

She  turned  out  the  light  and  as  she  dropped  down 
beside  the  bed,  a  small  arm  slipped  around  her  neck 
and  a  husky  little  voice  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  It's 
'cause  I'm  'fraid  inside  that  I  mustn't  have  the  light 
left."  Another  gulp.  "  Mother — she  said  you  wasn't  a 
coward  just  'cause  you  was  'fraid  inside,  but  only 
when  you  let  the  'fraid  get  out  into  the  things  you  do. 
She  said  lots  of  brave  men  were  'fraid  inside  some- 
times.    An' — an'  she  said  I  mustn't  ever  be  a  coward 


JIM  131 

nor  tell  lies,  an'  I  promised  —  cross  my  heart  —  I 
wouldn't.     So  that's  why,  Miss  Laura." 

Again  Laura  longed  to  hug  the  little  fellow  and  kiss 
him  as  his  mother  would  have  done,  but  she  said  only, 

"  Yes,  Jim,  I  quite  understand  now,  and  I  know  you 
will  never  be  a  coward.  Here's  the  bell,  you  know. 
You  can  press  the  button  if  you  want  anything,  and  the 
maid  sleeps  in  the  next  room.  She'll  be  up  in  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Yes'm."  A  little  drowsiness  was  creeping  into 
Jim's  voice  already. 

"  Good-night,  dear." 

"  Good-night,"  Jim  murmured  and  Laura  went 
away,  but  she  left  the  door  open  into  the  lighted  hall, 
and  when  she  slipped  back  a  little  later  the  boy  was 
asleep. 

When  the  other  Camp  Fire  Girls  learned  about 
"  Miss  Laura's  boy  "  they  were  all  interested  in  him, 
and  begged  that  he  might  come  to  the  next  Council 
meeting.  Jim  was  sitting  up  most  of  the  day  now,  and 
his  wheelchair  was  rolled  into  the  room  after  all  the 
girls  had  come.  He  was  dressed  and  sat  up  very 
straight,  but  though  he  was  much  better,  his  face  was 
still  very  thin  and  white. 

"  All  but  one  of  my  girls  are  here  to-night,  Jim," 
Miss  Laura  told  him.  "  I'm  going  to  introduce  you 
to  them  and  see  how  many  of  the  names  you  can 
remember." 

"  Why  isn't  that  other  one  here?  "  he  demanded. 

"  She  couldn't  come  this  time,"  Laura  said  with  a 
glance  at  Olga,  sitting  grave  and  silent  a  little  apart 
from  the  others. 

The  girls  gathered  about  the  wheelchair  and  Jim 


132  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

held  out  his  hand  to  each  one  as  Laura  mentioned  her 
name.  His  gray  eyes  searched  each  face,  but  he  said 
nothing  until  Lena  Barton  flung  him  a  careless  nod 
and  would  have  passed  on,  but  he  caught  her  hand 
and  laughed  up  into  the  freckled  face  with  the  bunch 
of  red  frizzes  puffed  out  on  each  side  in  the  "  latest 
moment "  fashion. 

"  Hello,  Carrots,"  he  called  in  the  tone  of  jovial 
good-fellowship,  "  I  like  you,  'cause  you  look  like  a 
fellow  I  used  to  sit  with  in  school.  His  name  was 
Barton  too — Jo  Barton.  O,  I  say,"  leaning  forward 
eagerly,  "  mebbe  he's  your  brother  ?  " 

"  You're  right,  kiddie — he's  one  of  the  bunch," 
Lena  answered,  her  face  softening  as  she  looked  down 
into  the  eager  gray  eyes. 

"  Gee !  Jo's  sister !  "  Jim  repeated.  "  I  wish  Jo 
was  here  too.  I  s'pose,"  he  glanced  at  Miss  Laura, 
"you  couldn't  squeeze  in  just  one  more  boy?" 

Laura  shook  her  head.  "  Not  into  these  meetings. 
But  you  can  invite  Lena's  brother  to  come  and  see  you, 
if  you  like." 

"  O  bully !  "  Jim  cried  out  and  turned  again  to  Lena. 
"  You  tell  him,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  will,  sure,"  she  promised,  and  Jim  reluctantly 
released  her  hand. 

The  girls  begged  that  he  might  stay,  and  though 
Jim's  tongue  was  silent  his  eyes  pleaded  too,  so  Miss 
Laura  conceded,  "  Just  for  a  while  then,  if  you'll 
be  very  quiet  so  as  not  to  get  too  tired,"  and  with  a 
contented  smile  Jim  leaned  back  against  his  cushions 
and  looked  and  listened.  When  the  girls  chanted  the 
Fire  Ode  his  eyes  widened  with  pleasure  and  he 
listened  with  keen  interest  to  the  recital  of  "  gentle 


JIM  133 

deeds."  Even  Olga  gave  one  this  time.  Jim's  eyes 
studied  her  grave  face,  his  own  almost  as  grave,  and 
when  later  she  passed  his  chair,  he  caught  her  dress 
and  said  very  low,  "  Put  down  your  head.  I  want  to 
ask  you  something." 

Olga  impatiently  jerked  her  dress  from  his  grasp, 
but  something  in  his  eyes  held  her  against  her  will,  and 
under  cover  of  a  burst  of  laughter  from  another  group, 
she  leaned  over  the  wheelchair  and  ungraciously 
enough  asked  what  he  wanted.  Jim's  eyes,  very 
earnest  and  serious  now,  were  looking  straight  into 
hers. 

"  I  know  what  makes  you  keep  away  from  the 
others  and  look  so — so — dif'rent.  You're  lonesome 
like  I  was  at  the  hospital.  Is  it  your  mother, 
too?" 

Olga's  face  went  dead  white  and  for  an  instant  her 
eyes  flamed  so  fiercely  that  the  boy  shrank  away  with 
a  little  gasp  of  fear.  But  the  next  moment  she  was 
looking  at  him  with  eyes  full  of  tears — a  long  silent 
look — then,  without  a  word,  she  was  gone. 

The  first  time  that  Jim  came  downstairs  to  dinner 
he  was  very  shy  and  spoke  only  in  answer  to  a 
question.  But  his  awe  of  Judge  Haven  and  the  serv- 
ants soon  wore  off,  and  his  questions  and  comments 
began  to  interest  the  judge.  When  one  evening  after 
dinner  Laura  was  called  to  the  telephone,  the  judge 
laid  aside  his  paper  and  called  the  boy  to  him.  Jim 
promptly  limped  across  the  room  and  stood  at  the 
judge's  knee,  his  gray  eyes  looking  steadily  into  the 
keen  blue  ones  above  him. 

"Are  you  having  a  good  time  here?"  the  judge 
began. 


134  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  O,  splendid !  " 

"  And  you  are  almost  well,  aren't  you?  " 

"  Almost  well,"  Jim  assented,  a  little  shadow  of 
anxiety  creeping  into  the  gray  eyes. 

"  Let  me  see — how  many  days  have  you  been 
here?" 

Jim  answered  instantly,  "  Nine.  I've  got  five  more," 
this  last  very  soberly. 

"  Five  more?  "  the  judge  questioned. 

Jim  nodded  gravely.  "  Miss  Laura  said  I  could 
stay  here  two  weeks,  you  know." 

"  Oh !     And  then  what — back  to  the  hospital  ?  " 

"  O  no !  "  Jim  was  very  positive  about  that.  "  No, 
I  don't  know  where  I'll  be  after  the  five  days.  I — I 
kind  o'  wish  I  did.  It  would  be — settleder,  you  know. 
But,"  his  face  brightening,  "  but  of  course,  it  will  be 
a  nice  place,  because  Miss  Laura  said  she'd  find  me  a 
good  home  somewhere,  and  she  don't  ever  forget  her 
promises.  And  besides,  I'm  going  to  be  her  boy  just 
the  same  when  I  go  away  from  here — she  promised 
that  too." 

The  judge  nodded,  his  eyes  studying  the  small 
earnest  face. 

"  Miss  Laura  must  find  that  good  home  right  away," 
he  said.  "  Of  course  you  want  to  know  where  you  are 
going." 

"  I  hope  she'll  be  the  kind  that  likes  boys,"  Jim  said 
after  a  thoughtful  pause.     "  Do  you  think  she  will  ?  " 

"Who?" 

"  The  woman  in  that  good  home.  They  don't  all, 
you  know.  Some  of  'em  think  boys  are  dreadful  noisy 
and  bothering,  and  some  think  they  eat  too  much.     I 


JIM  135 

eat  a  lot  sometimes "  he  ended  with  an  anxious 

frown. 

The  judge  found  it  necessary  just  then  to  put  his 
hand  over  his  eyes.  He  muttered  something  about  the 
light  hurting  them,  and  then  Laura  came  in  and  told 
Jim  it  was  bedtime.  He  said  good-night,  holding  out 
his  small  stubby  hand.  The  judge's  big  one  grasped 
it  and  held  it  a  moment. 

"  We  had  a  nice  talk,  didn't  we?  "  Jim  said,  and  with 
the  smile  that  made  his  homely  little  face  radiant  for  a 
moment,  he  added,  "  It  sure  is  nice  to  talk  with  a  man," 
and  he  went  off  wondering  what  the  judge  was 
laughing  about. 

He  was  not  laughing  when  Laura  came  downstairs 
again  after  tucking  up  the  boy  in  bed.  She  so  hated 
to  turn  out  the  light  and  leave  him  in  the  dark,  but  she 
always  did  it.  Now  she  told  her  father  what  Jim  had 
said  about  that  the  first  night. 

The  judge  made  no  comment,  but  after  a  moment 
he  remarked,  "  The  boy  is  rather  worried  about  the 
home  you  are  to  find  for  him.  It  ought  to  be  settled. 
Have  you  any  place  in  view  ?  " 

"  No.  To  tell  the  truth,  father,  I  can't  bear  to  have 
him  go  away.  Would  you  mind  if  I  keep  him  here  a 
while  longer?  You  are  so  much  away,  and  he  is 
company  for  me,  and  very  little  trouble.  I  shall  miss 
him  dreadfully  when  he  goes." 

"  Of  course  I  don't  mind,"  her  father  said.  "  Only, 
Laura,  is  it  fair  to  keep  him  here — fair  to  him,  I  mean? 
The  longer  he  stays  the  harder  it  will  be  for  him  to  go 
to  a  strange  place." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  Laura  admitted  with  a 
sigh,  "  and  I  must  find  the  home  for  him  at  once." 


136  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  But  be  sure  it  is  a  good  place,  and  with  a  woman 
who  will  'mother'  him,"  the  judge  added.  "Poor 
little  chap — only  nine  and  lame,  and  alone  in  the  world. 
It's  hard  lines." 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  his  daughter  admitted,  "  and 
yet,  Jim  is  such  a  brave  honest  little  fellow,  and  he 
has  such  a  gift  for  making  friends,  that  perhaps  he  is 
not  so  badly  handicapped,  after  all.  I  shall  miss  him 
dreadfully  when  he  leaves  us." 


X 

SADIE  PAGE 

BUT  the  finding  of  a  satisfactory  home  for  the  boy 
proved  to  be  no  easy  task.  At  the  end  of  the 
two  weeks  Laura  was  still  carrying  on  the 
quest.  When  she  told  Jim  that  he  was  to  stay  with  her 
another  week  the  look  in  his  eyes  brought  the  tears 
into  hers.  For  the  first  time  she  dared  to  put  her  arms 
about  him  and  hold  him  close,  and  Jim  stayed  there, 
his  head  on  her  shoulder,  trying  his  best  to  swallow 
the  lump  in  his  throat.  When  he  lifted  his  head  he 
said  in  a  shaky  voice,  "  G — gee !     But  I'm  glad !  " 

"  Not  a  bit  gladder  than  I  am,  Jim,"  Laura  said, 
"  and  now  we  must  have  a  bit  of  a  celebration  to-night. 
Father  is  dining  out,  so  we'll  have  supper  up  in  the 
nursery  and  we'll  invite  somebody.     Who  shall  it  be?  " 

She  thought  he  would  say  Jo  Barton,  but  instead  he 
said,  "  Olga." 

"Olga?"  she  repeated  doubtfully.  "  I'm  not  at  all 
sure  that  she  will  come,  but  I'll  ask  her.  I'll  write  a 
note  now  and  send  it  to  the  place  where  she  works." 

Jim  gave  a  little  happy  skip.  He  ignored  his  lame- 
ness so  absolutely  that  often  Laura  too  almost  forgot 
it.  "  I  guess  she'll  come,"  he  said  in  the  singing  voice 
he  used  when  he  was  especially  pleased. 

Olga  was  just  starting  for  home  when  the  note 
reached  her.     She  scowled  as  she  read. 

137 


138  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Dear  Olga  :  Jim  wants  you  to  come  to  supper  with 
us — just  with  him  and  me — to-night  at  6 130.  I  shall 
be  very  glad  if  you  will,  for,  aside  from  the  pleasure 
of  having  you  with  us,  I  want  to  talk  over  with  you 
something  that  concerns  Elizabeth.  Please  don't  fail  us. 
"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  Laura  E.  Haven." 

Olga  read  the  note  twice,  her  eyes  lingering  on  the 
words  "  something  that  concerns  Elizabeth."  But  for 
those  words  she  would  have  refused  the  invitation,  but 
she  had  not  seen  Elizabeth  for  some  time,  and  did  not 
know  whether  she  was  sick  or  well.  She  did  not  want 
to  go  to  supper  with  Miss  Laura  and  Jim.  Jim  was 
well  enough — her  face  softened  a  little  as  she  thought 
of  him,  but  she  did  not  want  to  see  him  to-night.  If 
there  was  something  to  be  done  for  Elizabeth,  how- 
ever      Reluctantly  she  turned  towards  Wyoming 

Avenue. 

Jim  was  watching  for  her  at  the  window  and  ran  to 
open  the  door  before  the  servant  could  get  there. 

"  I  knew  you'd  come !  "  he  crowed,  flashing  a  smile 
up  into  her  sombre  face.  "  I  told  Miss  Laura  you 
would." 

"  What  made  you  so  sure,  Jim  ?  "  she  asked  curi- 
ously. 

"  O  'cause.  I  knew  you  would.  I  wanted  you 
hard,  and  when  you  want  things  hard  they  come — 
sometimes,"  Jim  said,  the  triumph  dropping  out  of  his 
voice  with  the  last  word. 

Jim  did  most  of  the  talking  during  supper,  Laura 
throwing  in  a  word  now  and  then,  and  leaving  Olga  to 
speak  or  be  silent,  as  she  chose.  She  wondered  what  it 


SADIE  PAGE  139 

was  in  Olga  that  attracted  the  boy,  for  he  seemed  quite 
at  ease  with  her,  taking  it  for  granted  that  she  liked  to 
be  there  and  was  interested  in  what  interested  him; 
and  although  Olga  was  so  silent  and  grave,  there  was 
a  friendly  light  in  her  eyes  when  she  looked  at  Jim, 
and  she  did  not  push  him  away  when  he  leaned  on  her 
knee  and  once  even  against  her  shoulder,  as  the  three 
of  them  gathered  about  the  fire  after  supper.  But 
when  he  had  gone  to  bed,  Olga  began  at  once. 

"Miss  Laura,  what  about  Elizabeth?" 

"  You  told  me,"  Miss  Laura  returned,  "  that  you 
thought  Sadie  had  something  to  do  with  her  absence 
from  the  Council  meetings." 

Olga's  face  hardened.  "  I'm  sure  of  it.  She's  a 
hateful  little  cat — that  Sadie.  I'm  sure  she  is  deter- 
mined that  Elizabeth  shall  not  come  here  unless  she 
comes  too." 

"  I  wonder  why  the  child  is  so  eager  to  come,"  Miss 
Laura  said  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh !  "  Olga  flung  out  impatiently.  "  She's  be- 
witched over  the  Camp  Fire  dresses,  and  headbands, 
and  all  the  other  toggery,  and  she  likes  to  be  with  older 
girls.  She's  just  set  her  heart  on  being  a  Camp  Fire 
Girl  and  she's  determined  that  if  she  can't  be,  Eliza- 
beth shan't  be  either — that's  all  there  is  about  it." 

"  Then  perhaps  we'd  better  admit  her." 

Olga  stared  in  amazement  and  wrath.  "  Into  our 
Camp  Fire?  " 

Miss  Laura  nodded. 

"  But  we  don't  want  her,  a  hateful  little  snake  in 
the  grass  like  that !  "  the  girl  flung  out  angrily.  "  If  you 
knew  the  way  she  treats  Elizabeth — like  the  dirt  under 
her  feet!" 


140  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  I  know.  Her  face  shows  what  she  is,"  Laura 
admitted. 

"  Well — do  you  want  a  girl  like  that  in  your  Camp 
Fire?" 

"  Yes,"  Laura's  voice  was  very  low  and  gentle,  "  yes, 
I  want  any  kind  of  girl — that  the  Camp  Fire  can  help." 

"  The  other  girls  won't  want  her,"  Olga  declared. 

"  They  want  Elizabeth,  and  you  think  they  cannot 
have  her  without  having  Sadie." 

Olga  sat  staring  into  the  fire,  her  black  brows 
meeting  in  a  moody  scowl. 

"Olga,  what  is  the  Camp  Fire  for?"  Laura  asked 
presently. 

"  For  ?     Why "    Olga   paused,    a   new   thought 

dawning  in  her  dark  eyes. 

Laura  answered  as  if  she  had  spoken  it.  "  Yes,  the 
Camp  Fire  is  to  help  any  girl  in  any  way  possible.  Not 
only  to  help  weak  girls  to  grow  strong,  and  timid  girls 
to  grow  brave,  and  helpless  girls  to  become  useful, 
and  lonely  girls  to  find  friends  and  social  opportunities 
— it  is  for  all  these  things,  but  for  more — much  more 
besides.  It  is  to  show  selfish,  narrow-minded  girls — 
like  that  poor  little  Sadie — the  beauty  of  unselfishness 
and  generosity  and  thoughtful  kindness  to  others. 
Don't  you  see  that  we  have  no  right  to  refuse  to  give 
Sadie  her  chance  just  because  she  doesn't  know  any 
better  than  to  be  disagreeable  ?  " 

Again  Olga  was  silent,  and  the  clock  had  ticked 
away  full  ten  minutes  before  Laura  spoke  again. 
"  You  want  Elizabeth  to  come  to  our  meetings  ?  " 

"  It's  the  only  pleasure  she  has  in  the  world — coming 
to  them,"  Olga  returned. 

"  I  know,  and  I  want  her  to  come  just  as  much  as 


SADIE  PAGE  141 

you  do,"  Miss  Laura  said,  "  but  I  think  you  are  the 
only  one  who  can  bring  it  about." 

"  How  can  I  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  way — I  think — but  it  will  be  a  very 
unpleasant  one  for  you.  It  will  call  for  a  large  pa- 
tience, and  perseverance,  and  determination." 

Olga,  searching  Miss  Laura's  face,  cried  out,  "  You 
mean — Sadie! " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  Sadie.  Olga,  do  you  care  enough 
for  Elizabeth  to  do  this  very  hard  thing  for  her?  You 
did  so  much  for  her  at  the  Camp !  It  was  you  who 
put  hope  and  courage  and  will-power  into  her  and 
helped  her  to  find  health.  But  she  still  needs  you,  and 
she  needs  what  the  Camp  Fire  can  give  her.  She 
cannot  have  either,  it  seems,  unless  we  take  Sadie  too, 
and  Sadie  needs  what  the  Camp  Fire  can  give  quite 
as  much — in  a  different  way — as  Elizabeth  did  or  does. 
Olga,  are  you  willing  for  Elizabeth's  sake  to  do  your 
utmost  for  Sadie — so  that  the  other  girls  will  take  her 
in  ?     They  wouldn't  do  it  as  she  is  now,  you  know." 

Olga  pondered  over  that  and  Laura  left  her  to  her 
own  thoughts.  This  thing  meant  much  to  the  lives  of 
three  girls — this  one  of  the  three  must  not  be  hurried. 
But  she  studied  the  dark  face,  reading  there  some  of 
the  conflicting  thoughts  passing  through  the  girl's 
mind.  After  a  long  time  Olga  threw  back  her  head 
and   spoke. 

"  I  shall  hate  it,  but  I'll  do  it." 

Laura  shook  her  head  doubtfully.  "  Sadie  is  keen 
— sharp.  If  you  hate  her  she  will  know  it,  and  you'll 
make  no  headway  with  her." 

"  I  know."  Olga  gave  a  rueful  little  laugh.  "  She's 
sharp  as  needles^-that's  the  one  good  thing  about  her. 


142  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

I  shall  have  to  start  with  that  and  not  pretend — any- 
thing. It  wouldn't  be  any  use.  I  shall  tell  her  plainly 
that  I'll  help  her  get  into  our  Camp  Fire  on  condition 
that  she  treats  Elizabeth  as  she  ought  and  gets  her  out 
to  our  meetings.  I'll  make  a  square  bargain  with  her. 
Maybe  she  won't  agree,  but  I  think  she  will,  and  if 
she  agrees,  I  think  she'll  do  her  part." 

Laura  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  "  I  am  so  glad, 
Olga — glad  for  Elizabeth  and  for  Sadie  both,"  and  in 
her  heart  she  added,  "  and  for  you  too,  Olga — O,  for 
you  too !  " 

So  the  very  next  evening  Olga  stood  again  at  the 
door  which  Sadie  had  slammed  in  her  face,  and  as 
before  it  was  Sadie  who  answered  her  ring. 

"  You  can't  see  Elizabeth,"  she  began  with  a  flirt, 
but  Olga  said  quietly, 

"  I  came  to  see  you  this  time." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  Sadie  flung  back  at  her. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you,"  Olga  persisted.  "  Can 
you  walk  a  little  way  with  me  ?  " 

Sadie's  small  black  eyes  seemed  to  bore  like  gimlets 
into  the  eyes  of  the  other  girl,  but  curiosity  got  the 
better  of  suspicion  after  a  minute  and  saying,  "  Well, 
wait  till  I  get  my  things,  then,"  she  left  Olga  on  the 
steps  till  she  returned  with  her  coat  and  hat  on. 

"Now,  what  is  it?"  she  demanded  as  the  two 
walked  down  the  street. 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  a  Camp  Fire  Girl  ?  "  Olga 
began. 

"  What  if  I  do? "  Sadie  returned  suspiciously. 

"  You  can  be  if  you  like." 

"In  your  Camp  Fire — the  Busy  Corner  one?" 

"  Yes." 


SADIE  PAGE  143 

"  How  can  I  ?    You  said  I  couldn't  before." 

"  There  wasn't  any  vacancy  then,  but  one  of  our 
girls  has  gone  to  Baltimore,  so  there  is  a  chance  for 
some  one  in  her  place." 

Sadie's  breath  came  quickly,  and  the  suspicion  and 
sharpness  had  dropped  out  of  her  voice  as  she  asked 
eagerly,  "Will  Miss  Laura  let  me  join — truly?" 

"  Yes " 

"Yes — what?"  Sadie  demanded,  the  sharpness 
again  in  evidence. 

Olga  faced  her  steadily.  "  Sadie,  I'm  going  to  put 
it  to  you  straight,  for  if  you  join,  you've  got  to 
understand  exactly  how  it  is." 

"  I  know,"  Sadie  broke  out  angrily,  "  you're  just 
letting  me  in  so's  to  get  'Lizabeth.  You  can't  fool 
me,  Olga  Priest." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I'm  not  trying  to,"  Olga  answered 
quietly.  "  Now  listen  to  me,  Sadie.  /  wouldn't  have 
let  you  join  only,  as  you  say,  to  get  Elizabeth.  But 
Miss  Laura  wants  you  for  yourself  too." 

"  'D  she  say  so  ?  "  Sadie  demanded  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  she  said  so."  Again  Olga  looked  straight 
into  the  sharp  little  suspicious  face  of  the  younger 
girl.  "  Sadie,  you're  no  fool.  I  wonder  if  you've 
grit  enough  to  listen  to  some  very  plain  facts — things 
that  you  won't  like  to  hear.  Because  you've  got  to 
understand  and  do  your  part,  or  else  you'll  get  no 
pleasure  of  our  Camp  Fire  if  you  do  join.  Are  you 
game,  Sadie  Page  ?  " 

The  eyes  of  the  two  met  in  a  long  look  and  neither 
wavered.  Finally  Sadie  said  sulkily,  "  Yes,  I'm 
game.  Of  course,  it's  something  hateful,  but — go 
ahead.     I'm  listening." 


144  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  No,  it  isn't  hateful — at  least,  I  don't  mean  it  so," 
and  actually  Olga  was  astonished  to  find  now  that  she 
no  longer  hated  this  girl.  "  I'm  just  trying  to  do  the 
best  I  can  for  you.  Of  course,  if  you  come  in,  Eliza- 
beth, too,  must  come  to  all  the  meetings;  but  I'll  help 
you,  Sadie,  just  as  I  helped  her,  to  win  honours,  and 
I'll  teach  you  to  do  the  craft  work,  and  to  meet  the  Fire 
Maker's  tests  later.  I'll  do  everything  I  can  for  you, 
Sadie." 

"  Will  you  show  me  how  to  make  the  Camp  Fire 
dress  and  the  bead  headbands  and  all  that  ?  "  Sadie 
demanded  breathlessly. 

"Yes— all  that." 

"  O,  goody !  "  Sadie  gave  a  little  gleeful  skip.  "  I 
know  I  can  learn — I  know  I  can — better'n  'Lizabeth." 

Then,  seeing  Olga's  frown,  Sadie  added  hastily, 
"  But  'Lizabeth  can  learn  to  do  some  of  them,  I  guess, 
too." 

"  Elizabeth  can  learn  if  she  has  half  a  chance,"  Olga 
said.  "  She  works  so  hard  at  home  that  she  is  too 
tired  to  learn  other  things  quickly." 

Sadie  shot  an  angry  glance  at  the  other  girl's  face, 
but  she  managed  with  an  effort  to  hold  back  the  sharp 
words  she  plainly  longed  to  fling  out.  She  was  silent 
a  moment,  then  she  asked,  "  You  said  '  things  that  I 
wouldn't  like.'    What  are  they?" 

"  Sadie — did  you  know  that  you  can  be  extremely 
disagreeable  without  half  trying?"  Olga  asked  very 
quietly. 

"  I  d'know  what  you  mean."  Sadie's  face  darkened, 
and  her  voice  was  sulky  and  defiant. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  really  don't,"  Olga  said,  looking 
at  her  thoughtfully.     "  But  it's  true,  Sadie.     You  have 


SADIE  PAGE  145 

hateful  little  ways  of  speaking  and  doing  things. 
They're  only  habits — you  can  break  yourself  of  them, 
and  quick  and  bright  as  you  are,  you'll  find  that  the 
girls — our  Camp  Fire  Girls — will  like  you  and  take 
you  right  in  as  soon  as  you  do  drop  those  ugly  nagging 
ways.  You  know,  Sadie,  you  can't  ever  be  really 
happy  yourself  until  you  try  to  make  other  people 
happy " 

Suddenly  realising  what  she  was  saying,  Olga 
stopped  short.  Sadie's  eyes  saw  the  change  in  her 
face,  and  Sadie's  sharp  voice  demanded  instantly, 
"  What's  the  matter?  " 

Olga  answered  with  a  frankness  that  surprised 
herself,  no  less  than  the  younger  girl,  "  Sadie,  it  just 
came  to  me  that  you  and  I  are  in  the  same  box.  I've 
not  been  trying  to  make  others  happy  any  more  than 
you  have " 

"  No,"  Sadie  broke  in,  "  I  was  going  to  tell  you  that 
soon  as  I  got  a  chance." 

Olga's  lips  twisted  in  a  wry  smile  as  she  went  on, 
" — so  you  see  you  and  I  both  have  something  to  do 
in  ourselves.  Maybe  we  can  help  each  other?  What 
do  you  say?  Shall  we  watch  and  help  each  other?  I'll 
remind  you  when  you  snap  and  snarl,  and  you " 

"  I'll  remind  you  when  you  sulk  and  glower,"  Sadie 
retorted  in  impish  glee.  "  Maybe  we  can  work  it  that 
way." 

"  All  right,  it's  a  bargain  then?  "  Olga  held  out  her 
hand  and  Sadie's  thin  nervous  fingers  clasped  it 
promptly.  The  child's  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her 
small  black  eyes  were  shining. 

"  I  can  learn  fast  if  I  want  to,"  she  boasted.  "  I'm 
going  to  make  me  a  silver  bracelet  like  Miss  Laura's 


146  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

and  a  pin;  and  I'll  have  lovely  embroidery  on  my 
Camp  Fire  dress.  I  love  pretty  things  like  those — 
don't  you  ?  " 

Olga  shook  her  head.  "  No,  I  don't  care  for  them," 
she  returned;  but  as  she  spoke  there  flashed  into  her 
mind  some  words  Mrs.  Royall  had  spoken  at  one  of 
the  Council  meetings — "  Seek  beauty  in  everything — > 
appreciate  it,  create  it,  for  yourself  and  for  others." 
Sadie  was  seeking  beauty,  even  though  for  her  it 
meant  as  yet  merely  personal  adornment,  and  she — 
Olga — deep  down  in  her  heart  had  been  cherishing  a 
scorn  for  all  such  beauty.  She  put  the  thought  aside 
for  future  consideration  as  she  said,  "  Then,  Sadie, 
you  and  Elizabeth  will  be  at  Miss  Laura's  next  Sat- 
urday? " 

"  I  rather  guess  we  will!"  Sadie  answered  emphat- 
ically. 

"  You  don't  have  to  ask  your  mother  about  it?  " 

Sadie  gave  a  scornful  little  flirt.  "  Mother !  She 
always  does  what  I  want.  We'll  be  there."  And 
then,  with  a  burst  of  generosity,  she  added,  "  You  can 
see  Elizabeth,  for  a  minute,  if  you  want  to — now." 

But  again  Olga  shook  her  head.  "  Tell  her  I'll  stop 
for  her  and  you  Saturday,"  she  said.  "  Good-bye, 
Sadie." 

"  Good-bye,"  Sadie  echoed,  turning  towards  her 
own  door;  but  the  next  minute  she  was  clutching 
eagerly  at  Olga's  sleeve.  "  Say — tell  Miss  Laura  to 
be  sure  and  have  my  silver  ring  ready  for  me  as  soon's 
I  join,"  she  cried.    "  You  won't  forget,  Olga?  " 

"  I  won't  forget,"  Olga  assured  her. 


XI 
BOYS  AND  OLD  LADIES 

THE  change  into  a  home  atmosphere  and  the 
loving  care  with  which  he  was  surrounded, 
worked  wonders  in  Jim,  and  when  the  judge 
decided  that  he  should  remain  where  he  was,  and  not 
be  sent  to  any  other  home,  the  boy  grew  stronger  by 
the  hour.  Then  Laura  had  her  hands  full  to  keep  him 
happily  occupied ;  for  after  a  while,  in  spite  of  auto 
rides  and  visits  to  the  Zoo — in  spite  of  books  and 
games  and  picture  puzzles — sometimes  she  thought  he 
seemed  not  quite  happy,  and  she  puzzled  over  the 
problem,  wondering  what  she  had  left  undone.  When 
one  day  she  found  him  watching  some  boys  playing 
in  a  vacant  lot,  the  wistful  longing  in  his  eyes  was  a 
revelation  to  her. 

"  Of  course,  it  is  boys  he  is  longing  for — boys  and 
out-of-door  fun.  I  ought  to  have  known,"  she  said 
to  herself,  and  at  once  she  called  Elsie  Harding  on  the 
telephone. 

"  Will  you  ask  your  brother  Jack  if  he  will  come 
here  Saturday  morning  and  see  Jim?  Tell  him  it  is  a 
chance  for  his  '  one  kindness,'  a  kindness  that  will 
mean  a  great  deal  to  my  boy." 

"  I'll  tell  him,"  Elsie  promised.  "  I  know  he'll  be 
glad  to  go  if  he  can." 

Laura  said  nothing  to  Jim,  but  when  Jack  Harding 
appeared,  she  took  him  upstairs  at  once.     Jim  was 

147 


148  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

standing  at  the  window,  watching  two  boys  and  a 
puppy  in  a  neighbouring  yard.  He  glanced  listlessly 
over  his  shoulder  as  the  door  opened,  but  at  sight  of 
a  boy  in  Scout  uniform,  he  hurried  across  to  him, 
crying  out, 

"  My !  But  it's  good  to  see  a  boy !  "  Then  he 
glanced  at  Laura,  the  colour  flaming  in  his  face. 
Would  she  mind?  But  she  was  smiling  at  him,  and 
looking  almost  as  happy  as  he  felt. 

"  This  is  Jack  Harding,  Elsie's  brother,"  she  said, 
"  and,  Jack,  this  is  my  boy  Jim.  I  hope  he  can  per- 
suade you  to  stay  to  lunch  with  him."  Then  she  shut 
the  door  and  left  the  two  together. 

When  she  went  back  at  noon,  she  found  the  boys 
deep  in  the  mysteries  of  knots.  Jim  looked  up,  his 
homely  little  face  full  of  pride. 

"  Jack  is  learning  me  to  tie  all  the  different  knots," 
he  cried,  "  and  he's  going  to  learn  me  ['  teach,'  cor- 
rected Jack  softly] — yes,  teach  me  everything  I'll  have 
to  know  before  I  can  be  a  Scout.  Jack's  a  second  class 
Scout — see  his  badge?  We've  had  a  bully  time, 
haven't  we,  Jack  ?  " 

Suddenly  his  head  went  down  and  his  heels  flew 
into  the  air  as  he  turned  a  somersault.  Coming  right 
end  upwards  again,  he  looked  at  Laura  with  a  doubt- 
ful grin.  "  I — I  didn't  mean  to  do  that,"  he  stammered. 
"  It— just  did  itself— like— " 

Jack's  quick  laugh  rang  out  then.  "  I  know.  You 
had  to  get  it  out  of  your  system,  didn't  you?  "  he  said 
with  full  understanding. 

That  was  a  red-letter  day  to  Jim.  He  kept  his 
visitor  until  the  last  possible  moment,  and  stood  at  the 
window  looking  after  him  till  the  straight  little  figure 


BOYS  AND  OLD  LADIES  149 

in  khaki  swung  around  a  corner  and  was  gone.  Then 
with  a  long  happy  breath  he  turned  to  Laura  and  said, 
half  apologetically,  half  appealingly,  "  You  see  a  fellow 
gets  kind  o'  hungry  for  boys,  sometimes.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you,  Miss  Laura  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  Jim.  I  get  hungry  for  girls  the  same 
way — it's  all  right,"  she  assured  him.  But  she  made 
up  her  mind  that  Jim  should  not  get  so  hungry  for 
boys  again — she  would  see  to  that. 

After  a  moment  he  asked  thoughtfully,  "  Why  can't 
boys  be  Scouts  till  they're  twelve,  Miss  Laura?" 

"  I  think  because  younger  boys  could  not  go  on  the 
long  tramps." 

"  Oh !  "  Jim  thought  that  over  and  finally  admit- 
ted, "Yes,  I  guess  that's  it."  A  little  later  he  asked 
anxiously,  "  Do  you  s'pose  they'd  let  a  fellow  join 
when  he's  twelve  even  if  he  is  just  a  little  lame?  " 

"  O,  I  hope  so,  Jim,"  Laura  answered  quickly. 

"  But  you  ain't  sure.  Jack  wasn't  sure,  but  he 
guessed  they  would."  Jim  pondered  a  while  in  silence, 
then  he  broke  out  again,  "  Seems  to  me  the  only  way 
is  for  me  to  get  this  leg  cured.  I  can't  be  shut  out  of 
things  always  just  'cause  of  that,  can  I  now,  Miss 
Laura?" 

"  Nothing  can  shut  you  out  of  the  best  things, 
Jim." 

The  boy  looked  up  at  her,  tipping  his  round  head 
till  he  reminded  her  of  an  uncommonly  wise  sparrow. 
"  I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said  in  a 
doubtful  tone. 

"  You  like  stories  of  men  who  have  done  splendid 
brave  things,  don't  you?"  Laura  asked. 

Jim  nodded,  his  eyes  searching  her  face. 


150  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  But  some  of  the  bravest  men  have  never  been  able 
to  fight  or  do  the  things  you  love  to  hear  about." 

"  How  did  they  be  brave  then  ?  "  Jim  demanded. 

"  They  were  brave  because  they  endured  very,  very 
hard  things  and  never  whimpered." 

"  What's  whimpered  ?  " 

"  To  whimper  is  to  cry  or  complain — or  be  sorry 
for  yourself." 

Jim  studied  over  that;  then  coming  close  to  Laura, 
he  looked  straight  into  her  eyes.  "  You  mean  that  I 
mustn't  talk  about  that?  "    He  touched  his  lame  leg. 

"  It  would  be  better  not,  if  you  can  help  it,"  she 
said  very  gently. 

"  I  got  to  help  it  then,  'cause,  of  course,  I've  got  to 
be  brave.  And  mebbe  if  I  get  strong  as — as  anything, 
they'll  let  me  join  the  Scouts  when  I'm  twelve  even — 
even  if  I  ain't  quite  such  a  good  walker  as  the  rest 
of  'em.     Don't  you  think  they  might,  Miss  Laura?  " 

"  Yes,  Jim,  I  think  they  might,"  she  agreed  hastily. 
Who  could  say  "  No  "  to  such  pleading  eyes  ? 

Jim  had  been  teasing  to  go  to  school,  and  when  at 
the  next  Camp  Fire  meeting,  Lena  Barton  told  him 
that  Jo  had  been  sent  to  an  out-door  school,  Jim 
wanted  to  go  there  too. 

"  Take  him  to  the  doctor  and  see  what  he  thinks 
about  it,"  the  judge  advised,  and  to  Jim's  delight  the 
doctor  said  that  it  was  just  the  place  for  him. 

"  Let  him  sleep  out  of  doors  too  for  a  year,"  the 
doctor  added.     "  It  will  do  him  a  world  of  good." 

So  the  next  day  Miss  Laura  went  with  him  to  the 
school,  Jim  limping  gaily  along  at  her  side,  and  chuck- 
ling to  himself  as  he  thought  how  "  s'prised  "  Jo  would 
be  to  see  him  there. 


BOYS  AND  OLD  LADIES  151 

Jo  undoubtedly  was  surprised.  He  was  a  thin  little 
chap,  freckled  and  red-haired  like  his  sister,  and  he 
welcomed  his  old  comrade  with  a  wide  friendly  grin. 

Jim  thought  it  a  very  queer-looking  school,  with 
teacher  and  pupils  all  wearing  warm  coats,  mittens, 
and  hoods  or  caps,  and  all  with  their  feet  hidden  in  big 
woolen  bags.  There  was  no  fire,  of  course,  and  all  the 
windows  were  wide  open. 

"  But  what  a  happy-looking  crowd  it  is !  "  Laura 
said,  and  the  teacher  answered, 

"  They  are  the  happiest  children  I  ever  taught,  and 
they  learn  so  easily!  They  get  on  much  faster  than 
most  of  the  children  in  other  schools  of  the  same  grade. 
We  give  them  luncheon  here — plain  nourishing  things 
which  the  doctor  orders — and,"  she  lowered  her  voice, 
"  that  means  a  deal  to  some  who  come  from  poor 
homes  where  there  is  not  too  much  to  eat." 

"  We  shall  gladly  pay  for  Jim,"  Laura  said  quickly, 
"  enough  for  him  and  some  of  the  others  too." 

So  Jim's  out-door  life  began.  There  was  a  covered 
porch  adjoining  the  old  nursery,  and  the  judge  had  the 
end  boarded  up  to  protect  the  boy's  cot  from  snow  or 
rain;  and  there,  in  a  warm  sleeping-bag,  with  a  wool 
cap  over  his  ears,  and  a  little  fox  terrier  cuddled  down 
beside  him  for  company,  Jim  slept  through  all  the 
winter  weather. 

He  and  the  judge  were  great  chums  now.  It  would 
be  hard  to  say  which  most  enjoyed  the  half-hour  they 
spent  together  before  Laura  carried  the  boy  off  to  bed. 
And  as  for  Laura — she  often  wondered  how  she  had 
ever  gotten  on  without  Jim.  He  filled  the  big  house 
with  life,  and  she  didn't  at  all  mind  the  noise  and 
disorder  that  he  brought  into  it.  He  whistled  now  from 


152  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

morning  till  night,  and  his  pockets  were  perfect  catch- 
alls. Sometimes  they  were  stuck  together  with 
chewing-gum  or  molasses  candy,  and  sometimes  they 
were  soaked  with  wet  sponges,  and  his  hands — she 
counted  one  Saturday,  thirteen  times  that  she  sent 
him  to  wash  them  between  getting  up  and  bedtime. 

The  girls  always  wanted  Jim  at  their  Camp  Fire 
meetings,  for  a  part  of  the  time  at  least.  As  "  Miss 
Laura's  boy  "  they  felt  that  in  a  way  he  belonged  to 
them  too,  and  Jim  was  very  proud  and  happy  to 
make  one  of  the  company. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  a  Camp  Fire  boy  until  I'm  big 
enough  to  be  a  Scout,  if  you'll  all  let  me,"  he  told  the 
girls  one  night,  and  they  all  gave  him  the  most  cordial 
of  welcomes. 

He  was  sitting  between  Olga  and  Elizabeth,  when 
the  girls  were  talking  about  some  of  the  babies  they 
had  found. 

"  We  never  find  one  that  is  just  right,"  Rose 
Parsons  complained.  "  Or  if  the  baby  is  what  we 
would  like,  there  is  always  some  one  that  wants  to 
keep  it." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  Lena  Barton  flung  out.  "  It  was 
silly  of  us  to  think  of  taking  a  baby,  anyhow.  We 
better  just  help  out  somewhere — maybe  with  some 
older  kid."  Her  red-brown  eyes  flashed  a  glance  at 
Jim. 

It  was  then  that  Frances  Chapin  broke  in  earnestly, 
"  O  girls,  I  do  so  wish  you'd  take  one  of  the  old 
ladies  at  the  Home!  They  need  our  help  quite  as 
much  as  the  babies — more,  I  sometimes  think,  for  they 
are  so  old  and  tired,  and  they've  such  a  little  time 
to — to  have  things  done  for  them.     The  babies  have 


BOYS  AND  OLD  LADIES  153 

chances,  but  the  chances  of  these  old  ladies  are  almost 
over.  There's  one  —  Mrs.  Barlow  —  I'm  sure  you 
couldn't  help  loving  her — she  is  so  gentle  and  patient 
and  uncomplaining,  although  she  cannot  see  to  sew  or 
read,  and  cannot  go  out  alone.  She  has  her  board 
and  room  at  the  Home  of  course,  but  clothes  are  not 
provided,  and  she  hasn't  any  money  at  all.  Just  think 
of  never  having  a  dollar  to  buy  anything  with !  And 
the  money  we  could  give  would  buy  so  many  of  the 
things  she  needs,  and  it  would  make  her  so  happy  to 
have  us  run  in  and  see  her  now  and  then.  There  are 
so  many  of  us  that  no  one  would  have  to  go  often,  and 
she  loves  girls.  She  had  two  of  her  own  once,  but 
they  both  died  in  one  year,  and  her  husband  was 
killed  in  an  accident.  She  did  fine  sewing  and 
embroidery  as  long  as  she  could  see;  then  an  old 
friend  got  her  into  the  Home.  I  took  this  picture  of 
her  to  show  you." 

She  handed  the  picture  to  Laura,  who  passed  it  on 
with  the  comment,  "  It  is  a  sweet  face." 

The  girls  all  agreed  that  it  was  a  sweet  face,  and 
Mary  Hastings,  stirred  by  Frances'  earnest  pleading, 
moved  that  what  money  they  could  spare  should  be 
given  to  Frances  for  Mrs.  Barlow,  but  Frances  inter- 
posed quickly,  "  She  needs  the  money,  but  she  needs 
people  almost  more.  She  is  so  happy  when  Elsie  or 
I  go  in  to  see  her  even  just  for  a  minute!  I  shall  be 
delighted  if  we  take  her  for  our  Camp  Fire  '  service,' 
but  please,  girls,  if  we  do,  give  her  a  little  of  your- 
selves — not  just  your  money  alone,"  she  pleaded. 

"  How  would  I  know  what  to  say  to  an  old 
woman?  "  Lena  Barton  grumbled.  "  I  shouldn't  have 
an  idea  how  to  talk  to  her." 


154  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  You  wouldn't  need  to  have — she  has  ideas  of  her 
own  a-plenty.  Girls,  if  you'll  only  once  go  and  see 
her,  you  won't  need  to  be  coaxed  to  go  again,  I'm 
sure,"  Frances  urged. 

"  I'm  in  favour  of  having  Frances'  old  lady  for  our 
'  Camp  Fire  baby,' "  laughed  Louise  Johnson.  "  I 
second  Mary's  motion." 

But  Lena  Barton's  high-pitched  voice  cut  in, 
"  Before  we  vote  on  that  I'd  like  to  say  a  word.  I've 
no  doubt  that  Mrs.  Barlow  is  an  angel  minus  the 
wings,  but  before  we  decide  to  adopt  her  I'd  like  to 
see  some  of  the  other  old  ladies.  I've  wanted  for  a 
long  time  to  get  into  one  of  those  Homes  with  a  big 
H.  How  about  it,  Frances — would  they  let  me  in  or 
are  working  girls  ruled  out  ?  " 

"  O  no,  any  one  can  go  there,"  Frances  replied,  but 
her  face  and  her  voice  betrayed  her  disappointment. 
When  Louise  spoke,  Frances  had  thought  her  cause 
was  won. 

"  All  right — I'll  go  then  to-morrow,  and  maybe  I'll 
find  some  old  lady  I'll  like  better  than  your  white- 
haired  angel,"  Lena  flung  out,  her  red-brown  eyes 
gleaming  with  sly  malice  and  mischief. 

Quite  unconsciously,  and  certainly  without  intention, 
the  three  High  School  girls  held  themselves  a  little 
apart  from  Lena  and  her  "  crowd,"  and  Lena  was 
quite  sharp  enough  to  detect  and  resent  this.  She 
chuckled  as  she  watched  Frances'  clouded  face. 

"  O  never  mind,  Frances,"  Elsie  Harding  whispered 
under  cover  of  a  brisk  discussion  on  old  ladies,  that 
Lena's  words  had  started,  "  Lena's  just  talking  for 
effect.     She  won't  take  the  trouble  to  go  to  the  Home." 


XII 
NANCY  REXTREW 

BUT  that  was  where  Elsie  was  mistaken.  Lena 
did  go  the  very  next  afternoon,  and  dragged 
the  reluctant  Eva  with  her.  The  girls, 
proposing  to  join  the  Sunday  promenade  on  the 
Avenue  later,  were  in  their  Sunday  best  when  they 
presented  themselves  at  the  big,  old-fashioned  frame 
house  on  Capitol  Hill. 

"Who  you  goin'  to  ask  for?"  Eva  questioned 
as  Lena,  lifting  the  old  brass  knocker,  dropped  it 
sharply. 

"  The  Barlow  angel,  I  s'pose.  We  don't  know  the 
name  of  anybody  else  here,"  Lena  returned  with  a 
grin. 

The  maid  who  answered  their  summons  told  them 
to  go  right  upstairs.  They  would  find  Mrs.  Barlow 
in  Room  10  on  the  second  floor.  So  they  went  up, 
Lena's  eyes,  as  always,  keen  and  alert,  Eva  scowling, 
and  wishing  herself  "  out  of  it." 

"  Here's  No.  6 — it  must  be  that  second  door 
beyond,"  Lena  said  in  a  low  tone;  but  low  as  it  was, 
somebody  heard,  for  the  next  door — No.  8 — flew  open 
instantly,  and  a  woman  stepped  briskly  out  and  faced 
the  girls. 

"  Come  right  in — come  right  in,"  she  said  with  an 
imperative  gesture.     "  My !     But  I'm  glad  to  see  ye !  " 

So  compelling  was  her  action  that,  with  a  laugh, 
155 


156  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Lena  yielded  and  Eva  followed  her  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

The  woman  closed  the  door  quickly,  and  pulled 
forward  three  chairs,  planting  herself  in  the  third. 

"  My  land,  but  it's  good  to  see  ye  sittin'  there,"  she 
began.  "  What's  yer  names  ?  Mine's  Nancy  Rex- 
trew." 

Lena  gave  their  names,  and  the  woman  repeated 
them  lingeringly,  as  if  the  syllables  were  sweet  on  her 
tongue.  Then  she  tipped  her  head,  pursed  her  lips, 
and  gave  a  little  cackling  laugh. 

"  I  s'pose  ye  was  bound  fer  her  room — Mis'  Bar- 
low's, eh  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Yes,"  Lena  admitted,  "  but " 

"  I  don't  care  nothin'  about  it  if  you  was!  "  Nancy 
Rextrew  broke  in  hastily,  her  little  black  eyes 
snapping  and  her  wrinkled  face  all  alive  with  eager 
excitement.  "  I  don't  care  a  mite  if  you  was.  Mis' 
Barlow  has  somebody  a-comin'  to  see  her  nigh  about 
every  day,  an'  I've  stood  it  jest  as  long  as  I  can. 
Yesterday  when  the  Chapin  girl  an'  the  Harding  girl 
stayed  along  of  her  half  the  afternoon  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  the  next  girl  that  came  through  this  corridor 
was  a-comin'  in  here — be  she  who  she  might.  I  was 
right  sure  some  girl  or  other'd  come  on  a  pretty  Sun- 
day like  this,  to  read  the  Bible  or  suthin'  to  her,  an'  I 
says  to  myself,  '  I'll  kidnap  the  next  one — I  don't  care 
if  it's  the  daughter  of  the  president  in  the  White 
House.'  An'  I've  done  it,  an'  I'm  glad!"  she  added 
triumphantly,  her  eyes  meeting  Lena's  with  a  flash 
that  drew  an  answering  flash  from  the  girl's. 

"  Well,  now  that  you've  kidnapped  us,  what  next?  " 
Lena  demanded  with  a  laueh. 


NANCY  REXTREW  157 

"  I  do'  know  an'  I  don't  care  what  next,"  the 
woman  flung  out  with  a  gleeful  reckless  gesture.  "  Of 
course  I  can't  keep  ye  if  ye  want  to  go  in  there,"  with 
a  nod  towards  No.  10,  "  but  you  don't  somehow  look 
like  the  pious  sort.     Be  ye?  " 

Lena  shook  her  head.  "  I  guess  I'm  your  sort,"  she 
said.  She  had  never  before  met  an  old  woman  at  all 
like  this  one,  and  her  heart  went  out  to  her.  In  spite 
of  wrinkles  and  gray  hairs,  the  spirit  of  youth  nodded 
to  her  from  Nancy  Rextrew's  little  black  eyes,  and 
something  in  Lena  answered  as  if  in  spite  of  her- 
self. 

Nancy  hitched  her  chair  closer,  and  with  her  elbows 
on  her  knees,  rested  her  shrivelled  chin  on  her  old 
hands,  wrinkled  and  swollen  at  the  joints.  "  Now 
tell  me,"  she  commanded,  "  all  about  yourself.  You 
ain't  no  High  School  girl,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"  You're  right — I  never  got  above  the  seventh  grade 
— had  to  go  to  work  when  I  was  thirteen.  Eva  and 
I  both  work  in  Wood  and  Lanson's." 

"What  d'ye  do  there?"  Nancy  snapped  out  the 
question,  fairly  hugging  herself  in  her  delight. 

"  I'm  a  wrapper  in  the  hosiery  department.  Eva's 
in  the  hardware." 

"  I  know — I  know,"  Nancy  breathed  fast  as  one 
who  must  accomplish  much  in  little  time,  "  I've  been 
all  over  that  store.  My!  But  I'd  like  to  see  ye  both 
there — 'specially  yon!"  Her  crooked  finger  pointed 
at  Lena.  "  I  bet  you're  a  good  one.  You  could  make 
a  cow  buy  stockings  if  you  took  a  notion  to." 

Lena  broke  into  a  shout  of  laughter  at  the  vision 
of  a  cow  coming  in  to  be  fitted  with  stockings.  "  I'm 
afraid,"  she  gurgled,  "  that  we'd  have  to  make  'em  to 


158  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

order  —  for  a  cow !  "  and  all  three  joined  in  the 
laughter. 

But  Nancy  could  not  spare  time  for  much  merri- 
ment. She  poured  out  eager  questions  and  listened  to 
the  answers  of  the  girls  with  an  interest  that  drew 
forth  ever  more  details.  At  last,  with  a  furtive  side- 
long glance  at  the  clock,  she  said,  "  I  s'pose  now  if  I 
should  go  there  to  the  store  you'd  be  too  busy  to  speak 
to  me — or  mebbe  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  seen  talkin' 
to  an  old  thing  like  me,  an'  I  wouldn't  blame  ye, 
neither." 

"  Stuff !  "  retorted  Lena  promptly.  "  You  come  to 
my  place  next  time  you're  down  town  and  I'll  show 
you.  We  wouldn't  be  shoddy  enough  to  turn  down  a 
friend,  would  we,  Eva  ?  " 

"  I  guess  no,"  Eva  agreed,  but  without  enthusiasm. 

"  A  friend !  "  As  Nancy  repeated  the  word  a  curi- 
ous quiver  swept  over  her  old  lined  face.  "  You  don't 
have  to  call  me  a  friend,"  she  said.  "  Old  women 
like  me  don't  expect  to  be  called  friend — didn't  ye 
know  that  ?  " 

"  I  said  friend,  and  I  meant  what  I  said,"  repeated 
Lena  stoutly,  and  the  old  woman  swallowed  once  or 
twice  before  she  spoke  again. 

"  You've  told  me  about  your  work,  now  tell  me  the 
rest  of  it — the  fun  part,"  she  begged. 

"  O  that !  "  said  Lena.  "  The  fun  is  moving  pic- 
tures and  roller  skating  and  dances  and  the  Avenue 
parade — with  the  boys  along  sometimes." 

"  I  bet  ye  there's  boys  along  where  you  be ! " 
Nancy  flashed  an  admiring  glance  at  the  girl.  "  I 
always  did  admire  bright  hair  like  yours,  an'  a  pinch  o' 
freckles  is  more  takin'  than  a  dimple — if  you  ask  me." 


NANCY  REXTREW  159 

Had  Nancy  been  the  shrewdest  of  mortals  she 
could  have  said  nothing  that  would  have  pleased  Lena 
more.  She  had  been  called  "  Carrots  "  and  "  Red- 
head "  all  her  life,  and  from  the  bottom  of  her  soul  she 
loathed  her  fiery  locks  and  her  freckles,  though  never 
yet  had  she  acknowledged  this  to  any  living  creature — ■ 
and  here  was  one  who  liked  freckles  and  red  hair! 
Lena  could  have  hugged  the  little  old  woman  beaming 
at  her  with  such  honest  admiration.  A  wave  of 
hot  colour  swept  up  to  her  forehead.  But  Nancy's 
thoughts  had  taken  another  turn. 

"  Movin'  pictures.  That's  the  new  kind  of  show, 
ain't  it?  I've  heard  about  'em,  but  I've  never  seen 
any." 

"  You  can  go  for  a  nickel,"  said  Eva. 

"  A  nickel  ?  "  echoed  Nancy,  flashing  a  swift  glance 
at  her.  "  But  nickels  don't  grow  on  gooseberry  bushes, 
an'  if  they  did,  there  ain't  any  gooseberry  bushes 
around  here,"  she  retorted. 

"  Say "  Lena  was  leaning  forward,  her  eyes  full 

of  interest,  "  we'll  take  you  to  see  the  movies  any  time 
you'll  go,  won't  we,  Eva  ?  " 

"  Er — yes,  I  guess  so,"  Eva  conceded  reluctantly; 
but  Nancy  paid  no  attention  now  to  Eva.  Her  eyes, 
widened  with  incredulous  joy,  were  fixed  on  Lena's 
vivid  face. 

"Do  you  mean  it?  You  ain't  foolin'  ?"  she  fal- 
tered. 

"Fooling?  Well,  I  guess  you  don't  know  me. 
When  I  invite  a  friend  anywhere  I  mean  it.  When 
can  you  go  ?  " 

"When?  Now — this  minute!"  Nancy  cried,  start- 
ing eagerly  to  her  feet.     Then  recollecting  herself,  she 


160  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

sat  down  again  with  a  shamefaced  little  laugh.  "  For 
the  land's  sake,  if  I  wasn't  forgettin'  all  about  it's 
bein'  Sunday !  "  she  cried  under  her  breath. 

"  I  guess  you  wouldn't  want  to  go  Sunday,"  Lena 
said.     "  But  how  about  to-morrow  evening?  " 

Old  Nancy  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I  s'pose  mebbe  I 
can  live  through  the  time  till  then,"  she  returned. 
Then  with  a  quick,  questioning  glance — "  But  s'posing 
some  of  your  friends  should  be  there?  I  guess — 
mebbe — you  wouldn't  care  for  'em  to  see  you  with  an 
old  woman  like  me  in  such  a  place." 

"  Don't  you  fret  yourself  about  that,"  Lena  replied. 
"  You  just  meet  us  at  the  corner  of  Tenth  and  the 
Avenue.  I'll  be  there  at  half-past  seven,  if  I  can. 
Anyhow,  you  wait  there  till  I  come." 

When  the  girls  went  away  Nancy  Rextrew  walked 
with  them  down  to  the  front  door  and  stood  there 
watching  as  long  as  she  could  see  them,  her  sharp  old 
face  full  of  pride  and  joy  and  hope  that  had  long 
been  strangers  there. 

"  O  my  Lord ! "  she  said  under  her  breath 
as  she  went  back  to  her  room — and  again  "  O  my 
Lord !  " 

"  That  old  woman's  going  to  have  the  time  of  her 
life  to-morrow  night,"  Lena  said,  as  the  two  girls 
walked  towards  the  Avenue. 

"  I  don't  suppose  she's  got  a  decent  thing  to  wear," 
Eva  grumbled. 

Lena  turned  on  her  like  a  flash.  "  I  don't  care  if 
she's  got  nothing  but  a  nightgown  to  wear,  she  shall 
have  a  good  time  for  once  if  I  can  make  her!  "  she 
stormed.  "  Talk  about  your  Mrs.  Barlows !  "  And 
Eva  subsided  into  cowed  silence. 


NANCY  REXTItEW  161 

At  quarter  of  eight  the  next  evening,  the  two  girls 
saw  Nancy  Rextrew  standing  on  the  corner  of  Tenth 
Street  and  the  Avenue,  peering  anxiously  first  one  way 
and  then  the  other. 

"Oh!"  groaned  Eva.  "Lena  Barton,  look  at  the 
shawl  she's  got  on.  I  bet  it's  a  hundred  years  old — ■ 
and  that  bonnet !  " 

"  If  it's  a  hundred  years  old  it's  an  antique  and 
worth  good  money !  "  retorted  Lena.     "  Hurry  up  !  " 

But  Eva  hung  back.  "  I'd  be  ashamed  forever  if 
any  of  the  boys  should  see  me  with  her,"  she  half 
whimpered. 

Lena  stopped  short  and  stamped  her  foot,  heedless 
of  interested  passers-by.  "  Then  go  back !  "  she  cried. 
"  And  you  needn't  hang  around  me  any  more.  Go 
back,  I  say !  "  Without  another  glance  at  Eva  she 
hurried  on,  and  Eva  sulkily  followed. 

Rapturous  relief  swept  the  anxiety  from  old  Nancy's 
little  triangle  of  a  face  as  she  caught  sight  of  the  two 
girls. 

"  'Fraid  you've  been  waitin'  an  age,"  Lena  greeted 
her  breezily.  "  I  couldn't  get  off  as  early  as  I  meant 
to.  Come  on  now — we  won't  lose  any  more  time," 
and  slipping  her  arm  under  Nancy's,  she  swept  her, 
breathless  and  beaming,  towards  the  brilliantly-lighted 
show-place. 

"  Two,"  she  slapped  a  dime  down  before  the  ticket- 
taker,  quite  ignoring  Eva,  who  silently  laid  a  nickel 
beside  the  dime. 

The  place  was  one  of  the  best  of  its  kind,  well  ven- 
tilated and  spaced  and,  though  the  lights  were  turned 
down,  it  was  by  no  means  dark  within.  Lena  guided 
the  old  woman  into  a  seat  and  sat  down  beside  her,  and 


162  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Eva,  after  a  quick  searching  glance  that  revealed  none 
of  her  acquaintances  present,  took  the  next  seat. 

For  the  hour  that  followed  Nancy  Rextrew  was  in 
Fairyland.  With  breathless  interest,  her  eyes  glued  to 
the  pictures,  her  mouth  half  open,  she  followed  the 
quick-moving  figures  through  scenes  pathetic  or  ludi- 
crous with  an  absorbed  attention  that  would  not  miss 
the  smallest  detail.  When  that  popular  idol— the  Imp 
— was  performing  her  antics,  the  old  woman's  quick 
cackling  laugh  made  Eva  drop  her  head  that  her  big 
hat  might  hide  her  face.  When  the  "  Drunkard's 
Family  "  were  passing  through  their  harrowing  experi- 
ences, tears  rolled  unheeded  down  old  Nancy's 
wrinkled  cheeks  as  she  sat  with  her  knobby  fingers 
tight  clasped. 

WThen,  at  last,  Lena  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  I  guess 
we'll  go  now,"  Nancy  exclaimed, 

"Oh!  Is  it  over?  I  thought  it  had  just  begun. 
But  it  was  beautiful — beautiful !     I'll  never " 

A  loud  sharp  explosion  cut  through  her  sentence 
and  instantly  the  whole  place  was  in  an  uproar. 
Suffocating  fumes  filled  the  room  with  smoke  as  the 
lights  went  out.  Then  somebody  screamed,  "  Fire ! 
Fire!"  and  pandemonium  reigned.  Women  shrieked, 
children  wailed,  and  men  and  boys  fought  savagely  to 
get  to  the  doors.  Lena  was  swept  on  by  the  first  mad 
rush  of  the  crowd,  crazy  with  fear,  but  catching  at  a 
seat,  she  tried  to  slip  into  it  and  climb  back  to  Nancy 
and  Eva.  Before  she  could  reach  them,  she  saw  Eva 
thrown  down  in  the  aisle  by  a  big  woman  frantic  with 
terror,  who  tried  to  walk  over  her  prostrate  body,  but 
a  pair  of  bony  hands  grabbed  the  woman's  hair  and 
yanked  her  back,  holding  her,  it  seemed,  by  sheer  force 


NANCY  REXTREW  163 

of  will,  for  the  few  precious  seconds  that  gave  Lena 
a  chance  to  pull  Eva  up  and  out  of  the  aisle. 

"  You  fools !  "  The  old  woman's  voice,  shrill  and 
cracked,  but  steady  and  unafraid,  cut  through  the 
babel  of  shrieks  and  cries,  "  You  fools,  there  ain't  no 
fire!  If  you'll  stop  yellin'  an'  pushin'  and  go  quiet 
you'll  all  get  out  in  a  minute.  It's  jest  a  step  to  the 
doors." 

She  was  only  a  little  old  woman — a  figure  of  fun,  if 
they  could  have  seen  her  clearly,  with  her  old  bonnet 
tilted  rakishly  over  one  ear  and  her  shawl  trailing 
behind  her — but  through  the  smoke,  in  that  tumult  of 
fear  and  dread,  the  dauntless  spirit  of  her  loomed 
large,  and  dominated  the  lesser  souls  craven  with 
terror. 

A  draught  of  air  thinned  the  smoke  for  a  moment, 
and  as  those  in  front  rushed  out,  the  pressure  in  the 
main  aisle  lessened.  Climbing  over  the  back  of  a  seat, 
Lena  caught  the  old  woman's  arm. 

"  Come,"  she  shouted  in  her  ear,  "  we  can  get 
through  to  the  side  aisle  now — that's  almost  clear. 
Come,  Eva,  buck  up — buck  up,  I  say,  or  we'll  never 
get  out  of  this !  "  for  Eva,  terrified,  bruised,  and  half 
fainting,  was  now  hanging  limp  and  nerveless  to 
Lena's  arm. 

"  Don't  you  worry  'bout  me.  Go  ahead  an'  I'll 
follow,"  Nancy  Rextrew  said,  and  grabbing  Eva's 
other  arm,  the  two  half  pushed  and  half  carried 
her  between  them.  Once  outside,  her  blind  ter- 
ror suddenly  left  her,  and  she  declared  herself  all 
right. 

"  Well,  then,  let's  get  out  of  this,"  and  Lena's  sharp 
elbows  forced  a  passage  through  the  crowd  that  was 


164.  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

increasing  every  minute,  as  the  rumour  of  fire  spread. 
She  turned  to  old  Nancy.  "  We'll  get  you  on  a  car — 
My  goodness,  Eva,  catch  hold  of  her  quick!  We  must 
get  her  into  the  drug  store  there  on  the  corner,"  she 
ended  as  she  saw  the  old  woman's  face. 

They  got  her  into  the  drug  store  somehow,  and  then 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  Nancy  Rextrew  fainted; 
and  great  was  her  mortification  when  she  came  to 
herself  and  realised  what  had  happened. 

"My  soul  and  body!"  she  muttered.  "I  always 
did  despise  women  that  didn't  know  no  better  than  to 
faint,  an'  now  I'm  one  of  'em.  Gi'  me  my  Injy  shawl 
an'  let  me  get  away.  Yes,  I  be  well  enough 
to  go  home,  too !  "  She  struggled  to  her  feet,  and 
snatching  her  bonnet  from  Eva,  crammed  it  on  her 
head  anyhow,  fumbling  with  the  strings  while  she 
swayed  dizzily. 

"  Here,  let  me  tie  them,"  Eva  said  gently.  "  You 
sit  down  so  I  can  reach."  She  tied  the  strings  very 
slowly,  pulled  the  old  bonnet  straight  and  drew  the 
India  shawl  over  the  thin  shoulders,  taking  as  much 
time  as  she  could,  to  give  the  old  woman  a  chance  to 
pull  herself  together. 

"  I'll  take  her  home,"  Lena  said. 

"No,  you  won't — that's  my  job!"  Eva  spoke  with 
unusual  decision,  and  Lena  promptly  yielded. 

"  Well — I  guess  you're  right.  I  guess  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  her " 

"  Yes,"  said  Eva,  and  her  look  made  further  words 
unnecessary. 

The  three  walked  out  to  the  car  a  few  minutes  later. 
The  fire  in  the  picture  theatre  had  been  quickly  put  out, 
and  already  the  crowd  in  the  street  was  melting  away. 


NANCY  REXTREW  165 

Nancy  looked  up  and  down  the  wide  avenue  brilliant 
with  its  many  electric  lights ;  then  as  she  saw  the  car 
coming  she  turned  to  Lena,  her  pale  face  crinkling 
into  sudden  laughter. 

"  I  don't  care — it  was  worth  it !  "  she  declared. 
"  I've  lived  more  to-night  than  I  have  in  twenty 
years  before.  I  loved  every  minute  of  it — the  pictures 
an'  the  fire  an'  everything.  But  see  here — "  she  leaned 
down  and  whispered  in  the  girl's  ear, — "  don't  you  let 
any  feller  put  his  arm  round  you  like  the  man  did 
round  that  girl  that  set  in  front  of  us — don't  you  do 
it!" 

"  I  guess  not!"  retorted  the  girl  sharply.  "  I  ain't 
that  kind." 

"  That's  right,  that's  right !  An' — an'  do  come  an' 
see  me  again  some  time — do,  dearie !  "  the  old  woman 
added  over  her  shoulder  as  the  conductor  pulled  her 
up  the  high  step  of  the  car. 

Eva  followed  her.  "  I'm  going  to  see  she  gets 
home  all  right,"  she  said,  and  Lena  waved  her  hand 
as  the  car  passed  on. 

"  An'  to  think  her  sharp  old  eyes  saw  that !  "  Lena 
thought  with  a  chuckle  as  she  turned  away.  "  An'  me 
all  the  time  thinkin'  she  didn't  see  anything  but  the 
pictures.  Well,  you  never  can  tell.  But  she's  a  duck, 
an'  it's  her  gets  my  nickels — angel  or  no  angel.  And 
to  think  how  she  kidnapped  us — the  old  dear,"  and 
Lena  went  on  laughing  to  herself. 

At  the  next  Camp  Fire  meeting,  Lena,  with  a  mis- 
chievous spark  in  her  eyes,  called  out  to  Frances 
Chapin,  "  Say,  Frances,  Eva  and  I  took  one  of  your 
old  ladies  to  the  picture  show  the  other  night." 

Frances  looked  distinctly  disapproving.     "  I   think 


166  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

you  might  have  made  a  better  use  of  your  money," 
she  returned. 

"  I  don't,  then !  "  retorted  Lena,  and  thereupon  she 
told  the  story  of  Nancy's  Sunday  kidnapping,  and  of 
what  had  happened  at  the  picture  show.  Her  graphic 
wording  held  the  girls  breathless  with  interest. 

"  Well !  "  commented  Louise  Johnson,  "  I'd  like  to 
see  that  old  lady  of  yours,  Lena." 

"  She's  worth  seeing."     This  from  Eva. 

A  week  later  Louise  announced  that  she  had  seen 
Lena's  old  lady.  "  Saw  her  at  the  Home  yesterday. 
I  like  her.     She  sure  is  a  peach." 

"Isn't  she  just?"  Lena  responded,  her  face  lighting 
up.  "  And  did  you  see  Frances'  angel-all-but-the- 
wings  old  lady  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  she's  a  peach  also,  but  a  different 
variety,"  Louise  answered  with  a  laugh.  "  I  gave 
your  Miss  Rextrew  some  mint  gum  and  she  popped  it 
into  her  mouth  as  handily  as  if  she'd  chewed  gum  all 
her  life." 

Lena  nodded.  "  She  wanted  to  try  it.  She  wants 
to  try  everything  that  is  going.  She's  a  live  wire, 
that's  what  she  is — good  old  Nancy !  " 

"  We  went  the  rounds — Annie  Pearson  and  I," 
Louise  continued.  "  Saw  all  the  old  ladies  except  one 
that  doesn't  want  any  visitors.  Most  of  'em  do, 
though;  and  say,  girlies — "  Louise's  sweeping  glance 
included  all  in  the  room — "  I  reckon  it  won't  hurt  any 
of  us  to  run  up  there  once  a  month  or  so  when  it 
means  such  a  lot  to  those  old  shut-ins  to  have  us." 

There  was  a  swift  exchange  of  amazed  glances  at 
this,  from  Louise  Johnson,  and  then  a  murmur  of  as- 
sent from  several  voices,  before  Mary  Hastings  in  her 


NANCY  REXTREW  167 

business-like  way  suggested,  "  Why  not  each  of  us  set 
a  date  for  going?  Then  we  won't  forget — or  maybe 
all  go  on  the  same  day." 

"  All  right,  Molly — you  make  out  the  list  an'  we'll 
all  sign  it,"  Lena  said,  "  and,  say — make  it  a  nickel 
fine  for  any  girl  that  forgets  her  date  or  fails  to  keep 
it.     Does  that  go,  girls  ?  " 

"  Unless  for  some  good  and  sufficient  reason  that 
she  will  give  at  our  next  meeting,"  Laura  amended. 

Then  began  a  new  era  for  the  old  ladies  at  the 
Home.  Always  on  Saturday  and  Sunday  afternoons 
and  often  on  other  evenings,  light  footsteps  and  young 
voices  were  heard  in  the  corridors  and  rooms  of  the 
old  mansion.  Not  only  gentle  Mrs.  Barlow  and  eager 
old  Nancy  Rextrew,  but  all  the  women  who  had  drifted 
into  this  backwater  of  life  found  their  dull  days 
wonderfully  brightened  by  contact  with  these  young 
lives.  Nancy  Rextrew  looked  years  younger  than  on 
that  Sunday  when  she  had  turned  kidnapper.  Natu- 
rally she  was  still  the  prime  favourite  with  Lena  and 
Eva,  and  gloried  in  that  fact.  But  there  were  girls 
"  enough  to  go  around  "  in  more  senses  than  one,  and 
most  of  them  were  faithful  to  their  agreement,  and 
seldom  allowed  anything  to  keep  them  from  the  Home 
on  the  date  assigned  to  them. 


XIII 
A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS 

FOR  over  a  year  Olga  had  been  working  in  the 
evening  classes  of  the  Arts  and  Crafts  school, 
and  she  was  now  doing  excellent  work  in  silver. 
Her  designs  were  so  bold  and  original  and  her  execu- 
tion so  good,  that  she  received  from  patrons  of  the 
school  many  orders  for  Christmas  gifts — so  many  that 
she  gave  up  her  other  work  in  order  to  devote  all  her 
time  to  this.  She  had  now  two  rooms,  a  small  bed- 
room and  a  larger  room  which  served  as  kitchen,  liv- 
ing-room, and  workroom.  None  of  the  girls  had  ever 
been  invited  to  these  rooms,  nor  even  Miss  Laura. 
Elizabeth,  Olga  would  have  welcomed  there;  but  it 
was  quite  useless  to  ask  her  before  Sadie  joined  the 
Camp  Fire.  Then  Olga  saw  her  opportunity,  but  it 
was  an  opportunity  hampered  by  a  very  unpleasant 
condition,  and  the  condition  was  Sadie.  Could  she 
admit  Sadie  even  for  the  sake  of  having  Elizabeth? 
Olga  pondered  long  over  that  while  she  was  teaching 
the  girl  to  work  with  the  beads  and  the  raffia.  Sadie 
was  an  apt  pupil.  Those  bony  little  fingers  of  hers 
were  deft  and  quick.  Within  a  month  she  had  made 
her  Camp  Fire  dress  and  her  headband,  and  was 
eagerly  at  work  over  the  requirements  for  a  Fire 
Maker.  But,  as  Mary  Hastings  said  to  Rose  Anderson 
one  day, 

"  She's  sharp  as  nails— that  Sadie !     I  believe  she 
168 


A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS  169 

can  learn  anything  she  sets  her  mind  on;  but  she's 
such  a  selfish  little  pig !     I  can't  endure  her." 

"  I  wish  I  had  her  memory,"  Rose  answered.  "  How 
she  did  reel  off  the  Fire  Ode  and  the  Fire  Maker's 
desire  the  other  night !  I  haven't  learned  that  Ode 
yet  so  that  I  can  say  it  without  stumbling." 

"  O,  Sadie  can  reel  it  off  without  a  mistake,  but 
she's  as  blind  to  the  meaning  of  it  as  this  sidewalk. 
There's  no  heart  to  Sadie  Page.  She  can  thank  Eliza- 
beth that  we  ever  voted  her  in." 

"  Elizabeth — and  Olga,"  Rose  amended. 

"  O,  Olga — well,  that  was  for  Elizabeth  too.  Olga 
did  it  just  for  her — got  Sadie  in,  I  mean." 

"  She's — different — lately,  don't  you  think,  Molly?" 

"Who— Olga?" 

Rose  nodded. 

"  Yes,  she's  getting  more  human.  She's  opened 
her  heart  to  Elizabeth  and  she  can't  quite  shut  it 
against  the  rest  of  us — not  quite — though  she  opens  it 
only  the  tiniest  crack." 

"  But  I  think  it's  lovely  the  way  she  is  to  Sadie. 
You  know  she  must  hate  that  kind  of  a  girl  as  much 
as  we  do,  or  more — and  yet  she  endures  and  helps  her 
in  every  way  just  to  give  Elizabeth  her  chance.  Miss 
Laura  says  Olga  is  doing  lovely  silver  work.  I'd  like 
to  see  some  of  it,  but  I  don't  dare  ask  her  to  let 
me." 

"  You'd  better  not,"  laughed  Mary,  "  unless  you  are 
ready  to  be  snubbed.  Nobody  but  Elizabeth  will  ever 
be  privileged  to  that  extent." 

"  And  Sadie." 

"  Well,  possibly,  but  not  if  Olga  can  help  it." 

Yet  it  was  Sadie  and  not  Elizabeth  who  was  the 


170  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

first  of  the  Camp  Fire  Girls  to  be  admitted  to  Olga's 
rooms.  Sadie  was  wild  to  take  up  the  silver  work. 
She  wanted  to  make  herself  a  complete  set — bracelet, 
ring,  pin,  and  hatpin,  after  a  design  she  had  seen. 
Again  and  again  she  brought  the  matter  up,  for,  once 
she  got  an  idea  in  her  head,  she  clung  to  it  with  the 
tenacity  of  a  limpet  to  a  rock. 

"  I  think  you  might  teach  me !  "  she  cried  out  impa- 
tiently one  day,  meeting  Olga  in  the  street.  "  You 
said  you'd  teach  me  all  you  know — you  did,  Olga 
Priest — and  now  you  won't." 

"  I've  taught  you  basket  work  and  bead  work  and 
embroidery,  and  the  knots,  and  the  Red-Cross  things, 
and  I'm  helping  you  to  win  your  honours,"  Olga 
reminded  her. 

"  O,  I  know — but  I  want  to  make  the  silver  set  just 
awfully.  I  can  do  it  —  I  know  I  can  —  and  you 
promised,  Olga  Priest,  you  promised! "  Sadie 
repeated,  half  crying  in  her  eager  impatience. 

"  Well,"  Olga  said  with  a  reluctance  she  did  not  try 
to  conceal,  "  if  you  hold  me  to  that  promise " 

"  I  do  then !  "  Sadie  declared,  her  black  eyes  watch- 
ing Olga's  lips  as  if  she  would  snatch  the  words  from 
them  before  they  were  spoken. 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  must,"  Olga  went  on  slowly. 
"  But  listen,  Sadie.  You  don't  seem  to  realise  what 
you  are  asking  of  me.  I've  been  nearly  two  years 
learning  this  work,  and  I  paid  for  my  lessons — a  good 
big  price,  too — yet  you  expect  me  to  teach  you  for 
nothing." 

"  Well,  you  know  I've  no  money  to  pay  for  lessons," 
Sadie  retorted  sulkily. 

"  I  know — but  you  see  you  don't  have  to  learn  the 


A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS  171 

silver   work.     There  are  plenty  of  other  things   for 
you  to  learn  in  handcraft." 

Sadie's  narrow  sharp  face  flushed  and  she  stamped 
her  foot  angrily.  "  But  I  don't  want  the  other  things, 
and  I  do  want  this.  I — I've  just  got  to  have  that  silver 
set,  Olga  Priest." 

Olga  set  her  lips  firmly.  She  must  draw  the  line 
somewhere,  for  there  seemed  no  limit  to  Sadie's 
demands.  Then  a  thought  occurred  to  her  and  she 
said  slowly,  "  I  don't  feel,  Sadie,  that  you  have  any 
right  to  ask  this  of  me.  It  is  different  from  the* other 
things.  The  silver  work  is  my  trade — the  way  I  earn 
my  living.  But  I  will  teach  you  to  make  your  set  on 
one  condition." 

"  It's  something  about  Elizabeth,  I  know,"  Sadie 
flung  out  with  an  angry  flirt. 

"  No,  not  this  time.  Sadie,  have  you  ever  given 
any  one  a  Christmas  present?" 

"  No,  of  course  not.  I  don't  have  any  money  to 
buy  'em." 

"  Well,  this  is  my  condition.  I'll  teach  you  to  make 
the  silver  set  for  yourself  if  you  will  first  make  some- 
thing for " 

"  Elizabeth !  "  broke  in  Sadie.     "  I  said  so." 

"  No,  not  for  Elizabeth — for  your  mother." 

Sadie  stood  staring,  her  mouth  open,  her  eyes  full 
of  amazement. 

"What  you  want  me  to  do  that  for?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"  No  matter  why.     Will  you  do  it?  " 

Sadie  wriggled  her  shoulders  and  scowled.  "  I 
want  to  make  my  set  first — then  I  will." 

But    Olga    shook    her    head.     "  No,"    she    replied 


172  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

firmly,  "  for  your  mother  first,  or  else  I'll  not  teach 
you  at  all." 

"  But  I'll  have  to  wait  so  long  then  for  mine." 
Sadie  was  half  crying  now. 

"  That's  my  offer — you  can  take  it  or  leave  it,"  Olga 
said.  "  I  must  go  on  now.  Think  it  over  and  tell  me 
Saturday  what  you  decide." 

"  O — if  I  must,  I  must,  I  s'pose,"  Sadie  yielded 
ungraciously.  "  How  long  will  it  take  me  to  make 
mother's  ?  " 

"  Depends  on  how  quickly  you  learn." 

"  O,  I'll  learn  quick  enough !  "  Sadie  tossed  her  head 
as  one  conscious  of  her  powers.  "  When  can  I 
begin  ?  " 

"  Monday.     Can  you  come  right  after  school  ?  " 

"  Uh,  huh,"  and  with  a  brief  good-bye  Sadie  was 
gone. 

Olga  had  no  easy  task  with  her  over  the  making  of 
her  mother's  gift.  It  was  to  be  a  brass  stamp  box, 
and  her  only  thought  was  to  get  it  out  of  the  way  so 
that  she  could  begin  on  her  own  jewelry;  but  Olga 
was  firm. 

"  If  you  don't  make  a  good  job  of  this  your  lessons 
will  end  right  here,"  she  declared,  and  Sadie  had 
learned  that  when  Olga  spoke  in  that  tone,  she  must 
be  obeyed.  She  gloomed  and  pouted,  but  seeing  no 
other  way  to  get  what  she  wanted  she  set  to  work  in 
earnest.  And  as  the  work  grew  under  her  hands,  her 
interest  in  it  grew.  When,  finally,  the  box  was  done, 
it  was  really  a  creditable  bit  of  work  for  the  first 
attempt  of  a  girl  barely  fourteen,  and  Sadie  was 
inordinately  proud  of  it. 

It    was    December    now    and    Christmas    was    the 


A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS  173 

absorbing  interest  of  the  Camp  Fire  Girls.  They  were 
to  have  a  tree  in  the  Camp  Fire  room,  but  Laura  told 
them  to  make  their  gifts  very  simple  and  inexpensive. 

"  We  must  not  spoil  the  Great  Day  by  giving  what 
we  cannot  afford,"  she  said.  "  The  loving  thought  is 
the  heart  of  Christmas  giving — not  the  money  value. 
I'll  get  our  tree,  but  you  can  help  me  string  pop-corn 
and  cranberries  to  trim  it,  and  put  up  the  greenery." 

"Me  too — O  Miss  Laura,  can't  I  help  too?"  Jim 
cried  anxiously. 

"  Why,  of  course.  We  couldn't  get  along  without 
you,  Jim,"  half  a  dozen  voices  assured  him  before 
Laura  could  answer. 

"  I  wish  our  old  ladies  could  come  to  our  tree," 
Elsie  Harding  said  to  Alice  Reynolds. 

"  They  couldn't.  Most  of  them  can't  go  out  even- 
ings, you  know.  But  we  might  put  gifts  for  them  on 
the  tree  they  have  at  the  Home." 

"  Or  have  them  hang  up  stockings,"  suggested 
Louise  Johnson.  "  Just  imagine  forty  long  black 
stockings  strung  around  those  parlour  walls.  Wouldn't 
it  be  a  sight?"  she  giggled. 

"  Nancy  Rextrew  wouldn't  have  her  stocking  hung 
on  any  parlour  wall.  It  would  be  in  her  own  room  or 
nowhere,"  put  in  Lena. 

"  Why  not  get  some  of  those  red  Christmas  stock- 
ings from  the  five  cent  store,  and  fill  one  for  each 
old  lady?"  Mary  Hastings  proposed.  "We  could  go 
late,  after  they'd  all  gone  to  their  rooms,  and  hang  the 
stockings,  full,  on  their  doorknobs." 

"  Or  get  the  superintendent  to  hang  them  early  in 
the  morning,"  was  Laura's  suggestion. 

"  Yes,  we  can  get  the  stockings  and  the  '  fillings,'  " 


174  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Mary  Hastings  went  on,  "  and  have  all  sent  to  the 
superintendent's  room.  Then  we  can  go  there  and 
fill  them.     It  won't  take  long  if  we  all  go." 

"  And  not  have  any  tree  for  them  ?  "  Myra  asked  in 
a  disappointed  tone. 

"  O,  they  always  have  a  tree  with  candles  and  trim- 
mings— the  Board  ladies  furnish  that,"  Frances 
explained. 

The  girls  lingered  late  that  night  talking  over 
Christmas  plans.  The  air  was  heavy  with  secrets, 
there  were  whispered  conferences  in  corners,  and 
somebody  was  always  drawing  Laura  aside  to  ask 
advice  or  help.  Only  Elizabeth  had  no  part  in  these 
mysterious  whisperings.  She  had  blossomed  into 
happy  friendliness  with  all  the  girls  now  that  she  came 
regularly  to  the  meetings,  but  the  old  sad  silence 
crept  over  her  again  in  these  December  days.  It  was 
Olga  who  guessed  her  trouble  and  went  with  it  to 
Sadie,  drawing  her  away  from  a  group  of  girls  who 
were  busy  over  crochet  work. 

"  Look  at  Elizabeth,"  she  began. 

Sadie  stared  at  her  sister  sitting  apart  from  the 
others,  listlessly  gazing  into  the  fire.  "  Well,  what  of 
her  ?  What's  eating  her  ?  "  Sadie  demanded  in  her 
most  aggravating  manner. 

Olga  frowned.     Sadie's  slang  was  a  trial  to  her. 

"  Elizabeth  says  she  is  not  coming  to  the  Christmas 
tree  here." 

"  Well,  she  don't  have  to,  if  she  don't  want  to," 
Sadie  retorted,  but  she  cast  an  uneasy  glance  at  the 
silent  figure  by  the  fire. 

"  She  does  want  to,  Sadie  Page — you  know  she 
does." 


A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS  175 

"Well,  then  —  what's  the  answer?"  demanded 
Sadie. 

"  Would  you  come  if  you  couldn't  give  a  single 
thing  to  any  one?"  Olga  asked  quietly. 

"  Why  don't  she  make  things  then — same's  I  do  ?  " 
Sadie's  tone  was  sullen  now. 

"  You  know  why.  Your  mother  gives  you  a  little 
money " 

"  Mighty  little,"  Sadie  interrupted.  "  I'm  going 
to  work  when  I'm  sixteen.  Then  I'll  have  my  own 
money  to  spend." 

"  And  Elizabeth  is  nearly  eighteen  and  can't  work 
for  herself  because  she  spends  all  her  time  working 
for  the  rest  of  you  at  home,"  said  Olga. 

A  startled  look  flashed  into  the  sharp  black  eyes. 
Sadie  had  actually  never  before  thought  of  that. 

Olga  went  on,  "  I  guess  you'd  miss  Elizabeth  at 
home  if  she  should  go  away  to  work,  but  she  ought  to 
do  it  as  soon  as  she  is  eighteen.  And  if  she  should, 
you'd  have  to  do  some  of  the  kitchen  work,  wouldn't 
you?  And  maybe  then  you  wouldn't  have  a  chance 
to  go  away  and  earn  money  for  yourself." 

"  Is  she  going  to  do  that — go  off  to  work  when  she's 
eighteen?"  Sadie  demanded,  plainly  disturbed  at  the 
suggestion. 

"  Everybody  would  say  she  had  a  right  to.  Most 
girls  would  have  gone  long  ago — you  know  it,  Sadie. 
You'd  better  make  things  easier  for  her  at  home  if 
you  want  to  keep  her  there." 

"How?"  Sadie's  voice  was  despondent  now. 
"  Father  gets  so  little  pay — we're  pinched  all  the  time." 

"  Yet  you  have  good  clothes  and  money  for  your 
silver  work ." 


176  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Well,  I  have  to  just  tease  it  out  of  mother.  You 
don't  know  how  I  have  to  tease." 

Olga  could  imagine.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "  the  girls 
all  guess  how  it  is  about  Elizabeth,  and,  if  you  come 
to  the  tree  and  she  doesn't,  I  shan't  envy  you,  that's 
all.  You  are  smart  enough  to  think  up  some  way  to 
help  Elizabeth  out." 

"  I  d'know  how ! "  grumbled  Sadie.  "  I  think 
you're  real  mean,  Olga  Priest — always  saying  things 
to  spoil  my  fun,  so  there !  "  and  she  whirled  around 
and  went  back  to  the  other  girls. 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Olga  to  herself,  "  I've  set  her 
to  thinking." 

The  next  afternoon  Sadie  burst  tumultuously  into 
Olga's  room  crying  out,  "  I've  thought  what  Elizabeth 
can  do !  She  can  make  some  cakes — she  made  some 
for  us  last  Christmas — awful  nice  ones,  with  nuts  an' 
citron  an'  raisins  in  'em.  She  can  put  white  icing  over 
'em  an'  little  blobs  of  red  sugar  for  holly  berries,  you 
know,  with  citron  leaves.  I  thought  that  up  myself, 
about  the  icing.     Won't  they  be  dandy?  " 

"  Fine !     Good  for  you,  Sadie  !  " 

Sadie  accepted  the  approval  as  her  due,  and  went  on 
breathlessly,  "  I  thought  it  all  out  in  school  to-day. 
An'  say,  Olga — I  can  make  baskets  of  green  and  white 
crepe  paper  to  hold  three  or  four  of  the  cakes,  an' 
stick  a  bit  of  holly  in  each  basket.  Then  they  can  be 
from  me  an'  'Lizabeth  both — how's  that?" 

"  Couldn't  be  better,"  Olga  declared. 

"  Uh  huh,  you  see  little  Sadie  has  a  head  on  her 
all  right !  "  Sadie  exulted.  But  Olga  could  overlook 
her  conceit  since,  for  once,  she  had  taken  thought  for 
Elizabeth  too. 


A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS  177 

Laura  wondered  if,  amid  all  the  bustle  and  excite- 
ment of  Christmas  planning  and  doing,  Jim  would 
forget  about  the  Christmas  for  the  Children's  Hospital, 
but  he  did  not  forget ;  and  when  she  told  him  that  she 
was  depending  upon  him  to  tell  her  what  the  boys 
there  would  like,  Jim  had  no  trouble  at  all  in  deciding. 
So  one  Saturday  Miss  Laura  took  him  down  town 
early  before  the  stores  were  crowded  and  they  had 
a  delightful  time  selecting  books  and  toys. 

"  My-ee !  "  Jim  cried,  as  they  were  speeding  up 
Connecticut  Avenue,  the  car  piled  with  packages, 
"  won't  this  be  a  splendid  Christmas !  Ours  first  at 
home,  and  the  hospital  Christmas  and  the  Camp  Fire 
one  and  the  old  ladies'  one — it'll  be  four  Christmases 
all  in  one  year,  won't  it,  Miss  Laura?"  he  exulted. 

"  Besides  a  tree  and  a  gift  for  each  one  in  your 
out-door  school,"  Laura  added. 

Jim  stared  at  her  wide-eyed.  "  O,  who's  going 
to  give  them  ?  "  he  cried.     "  You  ?  " 

"  You  and  I  and  the  judge,  Jim.  That  is  our  thank- 
offering  for  all  that  the  school  is  doing  for  you — and 
for  Jo." 

Jim  moved  close  and  hid  his  face  for  a  long  moment 
on  Laura's  shoulder.  She  knew  that  he  was  afraid 
he  might  cry,  but  this  time  they  would  have  been 
tears  of  pure  joy.  He  explained  presently,  when  he 
was  sure  that  his  eyes  were  all  right. 

"  That  will  be  the  best  Christmas  of  all,  'cause 
some  of  the  out-doorers  wouldn't  have  a  teeny  bit 
of  Christmas  at  home.  Jo  wouldn't.  He  says  they 
never  hang  up  stockings  or  anything  like  that  at  his 
house.  He  said  he  didn't  care,  but  I  know  he 
did." 


178  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

That  evening  Miss  Laura  asked,  "  How  would  you 
like  to  put  something  on  our  tree  for  Jo  ?  " 

"  The  Camp  Fire  tree — and  have  him  come  ?  "  Jim 
cried  eagerly. 

"  Of  course." 

It  took  three  somersaults  to  get  that  out  of  Jim's 
system.  When  he  came  up,  flushed  and  joyful,  Laura 
said,  "  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  Christmas  secret,  Jim. 
I  am  going  to  have  each  Camp  Fire  Girl  invite  her 
mother,  or  any  one  else  she  likes,  to  come  to  our  tree. 
We  can't  have  presents  for  them  all,  of  course,  but 
there  will  be  ice  cream  and  cake  enough  for  every- 
body." 

"  O,  Miss  Laura! "  Jim  cried.  "  It's  going  to  be  the 
best  Christmas  that  ever  was  in  this  world!  " 

And  Jim  was  not  the  only  one  who  thought  so 
before  the  Great  Day  was  over.  The  tree  at  the  out- 
door school,  the  day  before,  was  a  splendid  surprise 
to  every  one  there  except  the  teacher  and  Jim,  and 
all  the  little  "  out-doorers,"  as  Jim  called  them,  went 
home  with  their  hands  full.  At  the  hospital  the  cele- 
bration was  very  quiet,  but  in  spite  of  pain  and 
weariness,  the  boys  in  the  first  ward  enjoyed  their 
gifts  as  much  as  Jim  had  hoped  they  would.  And  the 
Christmas  stocking,  full  and  running  over,  that  each 
old  lady  at  the  Home  found  hanging  to  her  door- 
knob, made  those  old  children  as  happy  as  the  young 
ones. 

Jim's  stocking  could  not  hold  half  his  treasures,  and 
words  failed  him  utterly  before  he  had  opened  the  last 
package.  But  the  Camp  Fire  celebration  was  the 
great  success.  The  tree  was  a  blaze  of  light  and 
colour,  and  the  gifts  which  the  girls  had  made  for 


A  CAMP  FIRE  CHRISTMAS  179 

each  other  were  many  and  varied.  Some  of  the 
beadwork  and  basket  work  was  really  beautiful,  and 
there  were  pretty  bits  of  crochet  and  some  knitted 
slippers — all  the  work  of  the  girls  themselves.  Miss 
Laura  had  begged  them  to  give  her  no  gift,  and  hers 
to  each  of  them  was  only  a  little  water-colour  sketch 
with  "  Love  is  the  joy  of  service,"  beautifully  lettered, 
beneath  it. 

Sadie's  baskets  of  crepe  paper  were  really  very 
pretty,  and  these  filled  with  Elizabeth's  holly  cakes 
were  one  of  the  "  successes  "  of  the  evening.  They 
were  praised  so  highly  that  Elizabeth  was  quite,  quite 
happy  and  Sadie  "  almost  too  proud  to  live,"  as  she 
confided  to  Olga  in  an  excited  whisper. 

But  the  best  of  all  was  the  pleasure  of  the  guests 
of  the  evening — Jack  Harding  and  Jo  Barton  and 
David  Chapin,  who  all  came  as  Jim's  guests — Louise 
Johnson's  brother,  a  big  awkward  boy  of  sixteen — 
Eva  Bicknell's  mother,  with  her  bent  shoulders  and 
rough  hands,  and  other  mothers  more  or  less  like 
her.  The  four  boys  helped  when  the  cake  and  ice 
cream  were  served,  and  Jim  whispered  to  Jo  that  he 
could  have  just  as  many  helpings  as  he  wanted — Miss 
Laura  said  so — and  Jo  wanted  several.  It  was  by 
no  means  a  quiet  occasion — there  was  plenty  of  noise 
and  laughter,  and  fun,  and  Laura  was  in  the  heart  of 
it  all.  They  closed  the  evening  with  ten  minutes  of 
Christmas  carols  in  which  everybody  joined,  and 
then  while  the  girls  were  getting  on  their  wraps,  the 
mothers  crowded  about  Laura,  and  the  things  some 
of  them  said  filled  her  heart  with  a  great  joy,  for 
they  told  her  how  much  the  Camp  Fire  was  doing  for 
their  girls — making  them  kinder  and  more  helpful  at 


180  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

home,  keeping  them  off  the  streets,  teaching  them 
so  many  useful  and  pretty  sorts  of  work. 

"  My  girl  is  so  much  happier,  and  more  contented 
than  she  used  to  be,"  one  said. 

"  Mine,  too,"  another  added.  "  I  can't  be  glad 
enough  for  the  Camp  Fire.  Johnny's  a  Scout  an' 
that's  a  mighty  good  thing,  too,  but  for  girls  there's 
nothing  like  the  Camp  Fire." 

"  Eva  used  to  hate  housework,  but  now  she  does  it 
thinkin'  about  the  beads  she's  getting,  and  she  don't 
hardly  ever  fret  over  it,"  Mrs.  Bicknell  confided. 

"  These  things  you  are  saying  are  the  very  best 
Christmas  gift  I  could  possibly  have,"  Laura  told 
them,  with  shining  eyes. 

And  the  girls  themselves,  as  they  bade  her  good- 
night said  words  that  added  yet  more  to  the  full  cup 
of  her  Christmas  joy. 

"  O,  it  pays,  father — this  work  with  my  girls,"  she 
said,  when  all  had  gone,  and  they  two  sat  together 
before  the  fire.  "  It  has  been  such  a  beautiful, 
beautiful  Christmas !  " 


XIV 
LIZETTE 

THE  last  night  of  December  brought  a  heavy 
storm  of  sleety  rain,  with  a  bitter  north  wind. 
Laura,  reading  beside  the  fire,  heard  the  door- 
bell ring,  and  presently  Olga  Priest  appeared.  The 
biting  wind  had  whipped  a  fresh  colour  into  her 
cheeks,  and  her  eyes  were  clear  and  shining  under  her 
heavy  brows. 

"  You  aren't  afraid  of  bad  weather,  Olga,"  Laura 
said  as  she  greeted  the  girl. 

"  All  weather  is  the  same  to  me,"  Olga  returned 
indifferently,  but  as  she  sat  down  Laura  cried  out, 

"  Why,  child,  your  feet  are  soaking  wet !  Surely 
you  did  not  come  without  rubbers  in  such  a  storm !  " 

"  I  forgot  them.  It's  no  matter,"  Olga  said,  draw- 
ing her  wet  feet  under  her  skirts. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment,"  Laura  replied,  and  left 
the  room,  returning  with  dry  stockings  and  slippers. 

"  Take  off  those  wet  things  and  heat  your  feet 
thoroughly — then  put  these  on,"  she  ordered  in  a  tone 
that  admitted  of  no  refusal. 

With  a  frown,  Olga  obeyed.  "  But  it's  nonsense — 
I  never  mind  wet  feet,"  she  grumbled. 

"  You  ought  to  mind  them.  Your  health  is  a  gift. 
You  have  no  right  to  throw  it  away — no  right,  Olga. 
It  is  yours — only  to  use — like  everything  else  you 
have." 

181 


182  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Olga  paused,  one  slipper  in  her  hand,  pondering 
that. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Olga,"  Laura  urged  gently,  "  we 
are  only  stewards.  Everything  we  have — health, 
time,  money,  intellect — all  are  ours  only  to  use  the 
little  while  we  are  in  this  world,  and  not  to  use  for 
ourselves  alone." 

"  It  makes  life  harder  if  you  believe  that,"  Olga 
flung  back  defiantly.  "  I  want  my  things  for  my- 
self." 

"  O  no,  it  makes  life  easier,  and  O,  so  big  and 
beautiful !  "  Laura  leaned  forward,  speaking  earnestly. 
"  When  we  really  accept  this  idea  of  service,  then  '  self 
is  forgotten.'  We  give  as  freely  as  we  have  received." 
Olga  shook  her  head  with  a  gesture  that  put  all  that 
aside. 

"  You  said  Saturday  that  you  wanted  my  help " 

she  began. 

"  Yes,  I  do  want  your  help.  I'll  tell  you  how  pres- 
ently. Sadie  Page  is  doing  very  well  in  the  craft 
work,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  can  copy  anything — designing  is  her 
weak  point — but  she  is  doing  very  well." 

"  She  is  improving  in  other  ways." 

"  There's  room  for  improvement  still,"  Olga  re- 
torted in  her  grimmest  voice.  Then  her  conscience 
forced  her  to  add,  "  But  she  is  more  endurable.  She 
treats  Elizabeth  some  better  than  she  did." 

"  Yes,  Elizabeth  seems  so  happy  now." 

Laura  went  on  thoughtfully,  "  You  are  a  Fire 
Maker.     Olga,  I  want  you  for  a  Torch  Bearer." 

Olga  stared  in  blank  amazement,  then  her  face 
darkened.     "  But  I  don't  want  to  be  a  Torch  Bearer," 


LIZETTE  183 

she  cried.  "  A  Torch  Bearer  is  a  leader.  I  don't 
want  to  be  a  leader." 

"  But  I  need  your  help,  and  some  of  the  girls  need 
you.  You  can  be  a  splendid  leader,  if  you  will.  Have 
you  any  right  to  refuse  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  not." 

"  If  in  our  Camp  Fire  there  are  girls  whom  you 
might  hold  back  from  what  will  harm  them,  or  whom 
you  could  help  to  higher  and  happier  living,  don't  you 
owe  it  to  them  to  do  this  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  They  do  nothing  for  me.  I  don't  ask 
them  to  do  anything  for  me." 

"  But  that  is  pure  selfishness.  That  attitude  is 
unworthy  of  you,  Olga." 

The  girl  stirred  restlessly.  "  I  don't  want  to  be 
responsible  for  other  girls,"  she  impatiently  cried  out. 

"  Have  you  any  choice — you  or  I  ?  We  have  prom- 
ised to  keep  the  law." 

"  What  law  ?  " 

"  The  law  of  love  and  service — have  you  forgot- 
ten ? "  Miss  Laura  repeated  softly,  "  '  I  purpose  to 
bring  my  strength,  my  ambition,  my  heart's  desire,  my 
joy,  and  my  sorrow,  to  the  fire  of  humankind.  The 
fire  that  is  called  the  love  of  man  for  man — the  love 
of  man  for  God.'  " 

Then  for  many  minutes  in  the  room  there  was 
silence  broken  only  by  the  crackling  of  the  fire,  and  the 
voices  of  the  storm  without.  Olga  sat  motionless,  the 
old  sombre  shadow  brooding  in  her  eyes.  At  last 
she  stirred  impatiently,  and  spoke. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"Have  you  noticed  Lizette  Stone  lately?"  Miss 
Laura  asked. 


184  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  No.    I  never  notice  her." 

"  Poor  girl,  I'm  afraid  most  of  you  feel  that  way 
about  her,"  Laura  said,  with  infinite  pity  in  her  voice. 
"  She  never  looks  happy,  but  lately  there  is  something 
in  her  face  that  troubles  me.  She  looks  as  if  she  had 
lost  hope  and  courage,  and  were  simply  drifting.  I've 
tried  to  win  her  confidence,  but  she  will  not  talk  with 
me  about  herself.  I  thought — at  least,  I  hoped — that 
you  might  be  able  to  find  out  what  is  the  trouble." 

"  Why  I,  rather  than  any  other  girl?  " 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  feel  so  sure  that  you  might 
succeed,  but  I  do  feel  so,  Olga.  She  may  be  in  great 
trouble.  If  you  could  find  out  what  it  is,  I  might  be 
able  to  help  her.     Will  you  try,  Olga  ?  " 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  I  can't  promise,  Miss 
Laura.     I'll  think  about  it,"  was  all  she  would  concede. 

"  She  works  in  Silverstem's,"  Laura  added,  "  and  I 
think  she  has  no  relatives  in  the  city." 

The  talk  drifted  then  to  other  matters,  and  when 
Olga  glanced  at  the  clock,  Miss  Laura  touched  a  bell, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  a  maid  brought  up  a  cup  of  hot 
clam  bouillon.  "  You  must  take  it,  Olga,  before  you 
go  out  again  in  this  storm,"  Laura  said,  and  reluctantly 
the  girl  obeyed. 

When  she  went  away,  Laura  went  to  the  door  with 
her.  The  car  stood  there,  and  before  she  fairly 
realised  that  it  was  waiting  for  her  Olga  was  inside, 
and  the  chauffeur  was  tucking  the  fur  rug  around  her. 
As,  leaning  back  against  the  cushions,  shielded  from 
wet  and  cold,  she  was  borne  swiftly  through  the  storm, 
something  hard  and  cold  and  bitter  in  the  girl's  heart 
was  suddenly  swept  away  in  a  strong  tide  of  feeling 
quite  new  to  her,  and  strangely  mingled  of  sweet  and 


LIZETTE  185 

bitter.  It  was  Miss  Laura  she  was  thinking  of — Miss 
Laura  who  had  furnished  the  beautiful  Camp  Fire 
room  for  the  girls  and  made  them  all  so  warmly  wel- 
come there — who  so  plainly  carried  them  all  in  her 
heart  and  made  their  joys  and  sorrows,  their  cares  and 
troubles,  her  own — as  she  was  making  Lizette  Stone's 
now.  How  good  she  had  been  to  Elizabeth,  how  pa- 
tient and  gentle  with  that  provoking  Sadie,  and  with 
careless  slangy  Lena  Barton  and  Eva!  And  to  her — 
Olga  thought  of  the  dry  stockings  and  slippers,  the  hot 
broth,  and  now — the  car  ordered  out  on  such  a  night 
just  for  her.  The  girl's  throat  swelled,  her  eyes 
burned,  and  the  last  vestige  of  bitterness  was  washed 
out  of  her  heart  in  a  rain  of  hot  tears. 

"  If  she  can  do  so  much  for  all  of  us  I  can't  be  mean 
enough  to  shirk  any  longer.  I'll  see  Lizette  to- 
morrow," she  vowed,  as  the  car  stopped  at  her  door. 
She  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  steps  looking  after  it 
before  she  went  in.  It  had  been  only  "  common 
humanity  "  to  send  the  girl  home  in  the  car  on  that 
stormy  night,  so  Miss  Laura  would  have  said.  She 
did  not  guess  what  it  would  mean  to  Olga  and  through 
her  to  other  girls — many  others — before  all  was 
done. 

Silverstein's  was  a  large  department  store  on 
Seventh  Street.  Lizette  Stone,  listlessly  putting  away 
goods  the  next  day,  stopped  in  surprise  at  sight  of 
Olga  Priest  coming  towards  her. 

"Almost  closing  time,  isn't  it?"  Olga  said,  and 
added,  as  Lizette  nodded  silently,  "  I  want  to  speak  to 
you — I'll  wait  outside." 

In  five  minutes  Lizette  joined  her.  "  Do  you  walk 
home  ?  "  Olga  asked. 


186  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Yes,  it  isn't  far — Ninth  Street  near  T." 

"  We're  neighbours  then.     I  live  on  Eleventh." 

"  I  know.  Saw  you  going  in  there  once,"  Lizette 
replied. 

There  was  little  talk  between  them  as  they  walked. 
Lizette  was  waiting — Olga  wondering  what  she  should 
say  to  this  girl. 

"  Well,  here's  where  I  hang  out."  In  Lizette's  voice 
there  was  a  reckless  and  bitter  tone. 

"  O — here !  "  Olga's  quick  glance  took  in  the  ugly 
house-front  with  its  soiled  "  Kensington  "  curtains — 
its  door  ajar  showing  worn  oilcloth  in  the  hall. 

"Cheerful  place — eh?"  Lizette  said.  "Want  to 
see  the  inside,  or  is  the  outside  enough?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  come  home  to  supper  with  me — will 
you  ?  "  Olga  said,  half  against  her  will. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ? "  Lizette's  hard  blue  eyes 
searched  her  face.  "  Take  it  back  in  a  hurry  if  you 
don't,  for  I'd  accept  an  invitation  from — anybody  to- 
night, rather  than  spend  the  evening  here." 

"  Of  course,  I  mean  it.  Please  come."  Olga  laid 
a  compelling  hand  on  the  other  girl's  arm  and  they 
went  on  down  the  street. 

"  Now  you  are  to  rest  while  I  get  supper,"  Olga  said 
as  she  threw  open  her  own  door.  "  Here — give  me 
your  things."  She  took  Lizette's  hat  and  coat. 
"  Now  you  lie  down  in  there  until  I  call  you." 

Without  a  word  Lizette  obeyed. 

Olga  creamed  some  chipped  beef,  toasted  bread,  and 
made  tea,  adding  a  few  cakes  that  she  had  bought  on 
the  way  home.  When  all  was  ready,  she  stood  a 
moment,  frowning  at  the  table.  The  cloth  was  fresh 
and  clean,  but  the  dishes  were  cheap  and  ugly.     She 


LIZETTE  187 

had  never  cared  before.  Now,  for  this  other  girl,  she 
wanted  some  touch  of  beauty.  But  Lizette  found 
nothing  lacking. 

"  Everything  tastes  so  good,"  she  said.  "  You  sure 
do  know  how  to  cook,  Olga." 

"  Just  a  few  simple  things.  I  never  care  much 
what  I  eat." 

"  You'd  care  if  you  had  to  eat  at  Miss  Rankin's 
table,"  Lizette  declared. 

With  a  question  now  and  then,  Olga  drew  her  on  to 
tell  of  her  life  at  Miss  Rankin's,  and  her  work  at  the 
store.  After  a  little  she  talked  freely,  glad  to  pour 
the  tale  of  her  troubles  into  a  sympathetic  ear. 

"  I  hate  it  all — that  boarding-house,  where  nothing 
and  nobody  is  really  clean,  and  the  store  where  only 
the  pretty  girls  or  the  extra  smart  ones  ever  get  on. 
The  pretty  girls  always  have  chances,  but  me — I'm 
homely  as  sin,  and  I  know  it ;  and  I'm  not  smart,  and 
I  know  that,  too.  I  shall  get  my  walking  ticket  the 
first  dull  spell,  and  then " 

"Then,  what,  Lizette?" 

"  The  Lord  knows.  It's  a  hard  world  for  girls, 
Olga." 

"  You've  no  relatives  ?  " 

"  Only  some  cousins.  They're  all  as  poor  as  pov- 
erty too,  and  they  don't  care  a  pin  for  me." 

"  Is  there  any  kind  of  work  you  would  really  like 
if  you  could  do  it? " 

"  What's  the  use  of  talking — I  can't  do  it." 

"  But  tell  me,"  Olga  urged. 

"  You'll  think  I'm  a  fool." 

"  No,  I  will  not,"  Olga  promised. 

"  It    seems    ridiculous "    Lizette    hesitated,    the 


188  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

colour  rising  in  her  sallow  cheeks,  "  but  I'd  just  love 
to  make  beautiful  white  things — lingerie,  you  know, 
like  what  I  sell  at  the  store.  It  would  be  next  best  to 
having  them  to  wear  myself.  I  don't  care  so  much 
about  the  outside  things — gowns  and  hats — but  I  think 
it  would  be  just  heavenly  to  have  all  the  underneath 
things  white  and  lacey,  and  lovely — don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  I  never  thought  of  it.  You  see  I  don't  care  about 
clothes,"  Olga  returned.     "Can  you  sew,  Lizette?" 

Lizette  hesitated,  then,  with  a  look  half  shamefaced 
and  half  proud,  she  drew  from  her  bag  a  bit  of 
linen. 

"  It  was  a  damaged  handkerchief.  I  got  it  for  five 
cents,  at  a  sale,"  she  explained.  "  It  will  make  a 
jabot." 

"  And  you  did  this  ?  "  Olga  asked. 

Lizette  nodded.  "  I  know  it  isn't  good  work,  but  if 
I  had  time  I  could  learn " 

"  Yes,  you  could — if  you  had  the  time  and  a  few 
lessons.     Are  your  eyes  strong?" 

The  other  nodded  again.  "  Strong  as  they  are 
ugly,"  she  flung  out. 

"  Leave  this  with  me  for  a  day  or  two,  will  you, 
Lizette?" 

"  Uh-huh,"  Lizette  returned  indifferently.  "  Give  it 
to  you,  if  you'll  take  it." 

"  Oh  no — it's  too  pretty.  Lizette,  you  hate  it  so  at 
Miss  Rankin's — why  don't  you  rent  a  room  and  get 
your  own  meals  as  I  do  ?  " 

"  Couldn't.  I'm  so  dead  tired  most  nights  that  I'd 
rather  go  hungry  than  get  my  own  supper.  Some 
girls  don't  seem  to  mind  being  on  their  feet  from 


LIZETTE  189 

eight  to  six,  but  I  can't  stand  it.  Sometimes  I  get  so 
tired  it  seems  as  if  I'd  rather  die  than  drag  through 
another  day  of  it!  And  besides — I  don't  much  like 
the  other  boarders  at  Rankin's,  but  they're  better  than 
nobody.  To  go  back  at  night  to  an  empty  room  and 
sit  there  till  bedtime  with  not  a  soul  to  speak  to — O, 
I  couldn't  stand  it.  I'd  get  in  a  blue  funk  and  end  it 
all  some  night.  I'm  tempted  to,  as  it  is,  sometimes." 
She  added,  with  a  miserable  laugh  that  was  half  a  sob, 
"  Nobody'd  care,"  and  Olga  heard  her  own  voice 
saying  earnestly, 

"  I'd  care,  Lizette.  You  must  never,  never  think  a 
thing  like  that  again !  " 

Lizette  searched  the  other's  face  with  eyes  in  which 
sharp  suspicion  gradually  changed  into  half  incredu- 
lous joy.  "  Well,"  she  said  slowly,  "  if  one  living  soul 
cares  even  a  little  bit  what  happens  to  me,  I'll  try  to 
pull  through  somehow.  The  Camp  Fire's  the  only 
thing  that  has  made  life  endurable  to  me  this  past 
year,  and  I  haven't  enjoyed  that  so  awfully  much,  for 
nobody  there  seems  to  really  care — I  just  hang  on  to 
the  edges." 

"  Miss  Laura  cares." 

"  O,  in  a  way,  because  I  belong  to  her  Camp  Fire — 
that's  all,"  returned  Lizette  moodily. 

"  No,  she  cares — really,"  Olga  persisted,  but  Lizette 
answered  only  by  an  incredulous  lift  of  her  thin, 
sandy  brows. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said,  rising,  and  with  her 
hands  on  Olga's  shoulders  she  added,  "  You  don't 
know  what  this  evening  here  has  meant  to  me.  I — 
was  about  at  the  end  of  my  rope." 

"  I'm  glad  you  came,"  Olga  spoke  heartily,  "  and 


190  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

you  are  coming  again  Thursday.  Maybe  I'll  have 
something  then  to  tell  you,  but  if  I  don't,  anyhow, 
we'll  have  supper  together  and  a  talk  after  it." 

To  that  Lizette  answered  nothing,  but  the  look  in 
her  eyes  sent  a  little  thrill  of  happiness  through  Olga's 
heart. 

Olga  carried  the  bit  of  linen  to  Laura  the  next  even- 
ing, and  told  her  what  she  had  learned  of  Lizette's 
hard  life. 

"  Poor  child !  "  Miss  Laura  said.  "  I  imagined  some- 
thing like  this.  We  must  find  other  work  for  her. 
Perhaps  I  can  get  her  into  Miss  Bayly's  Art  Store. 
She  would  not  have  to  be  on  her  feet  so  much  there, 
and  would  have  a  chance  to  learn  embroidery  if  she 
really  has  any  aptitude  for  it.  I  know  Miss  Bayly 
very  well,  and  I  think  I  can  arrange  it  to  have  Lizette 
work  there  for  six  months.  That  would  be  long 
enough  to  give  her  a  chance." 

"  Would  she  get  any  pay  ?  "  Olga  asked. 

"Of  course  —  the  same  she  gets  now,"  Laura 
returned,  but  Olga  was  sure  that  the  pay  would  not 
come  out  of  Miss  Bayly's  purse. 

Laura  went  on  thoughtfully,  "  The  other  matter  is 
not  so  easily  arranged.  Even  if  we  get  her  a  better 
boarding  place,  she  might  be  just  as  lonely  as  at  Miss 
Rankin's.  Evidently  she  does  not  make  friends 
easily." 

"  No,  she  is  plain  and  unattractive  and  so  painfully 
conscious  of  it  that  she  thinks  nobody  can  want  to  be 
her  friend,  so  she  draws  into  herself  and — and  pushes 
everybody  away,"  Olga  was  speaking  her  thought 
aloud— one  of  her  thoughts— the  other  that  had  been 
in  her  heart  since  her  talk  with  Lizette,  she  refused  to 


LIZETTE  191 

consider.  But  it  insisted  upon  being  considered  when 
she  went  away.  It  was  with  her  in  her  own  room 
where  Lizette's  hopeless  words  seemed  to  echo  and 
re-echo.     Finally,  in  desperation  she  faced  it. 

"  I  can't  have  her  come  here !  "  she  cried  aloud. 
"  It  would  mean  that  I'd  never  be  sure  of  an  hour 
alone.  She'd  be  forever  running  in  and  out  and  I'd 
feel  I  must  be  forever  bracing  her  up — pumping  hope 
and  courage  into  her.  It's  too  much  to  ask  of  me. 
I'm  alone  in  the  world  as  she  is,  but  I'm  not  whining. 
I  stand  on  my  own  feet  and  other  people  can  stand  on 
theirs.  I  can't  have  that  girl  here  and  I  won't — and 
that  ends  it!  "  But  it  didn't  end  it.  Lizette's  hopeless 
eyes,  Lizette's  reckless  voice,  would  not  be  banished 
from  her  memory,  and  when  Thursday  evening  the 
girl  herself  came,  Olga  knew  that  she  must  yield — 
there  was  no  other  way. 

Lizette  paused  on  the  threshold.  "  You  can  still 
back  out,"  she  said,  longing  and  pride  mingling  in  her 
eyes.  "  I  can  get  back  to  Rankin's  in  time  for  my 
share  of  liver  and  prunes." 

Olga  drew  her  in  and  shut  the  door.  "  Your  days 
at  Miss  Rankin's  are  numbered,"  she  said,  "  that  is  if 
you  will  come  here.  There's  a  little  room  across  the 
hall  you  can  have  if  you  want  it." 

Lizette  dropped  into  a  chair,  the  colour  slowly 
ebbing  from  her  sallow  cheeks.  "  Don't  fool  with  me, 
Olga,"  she  cried,  "  I'm — not  up  to  it." 

"  I'm  not  fooling." 

"  But — I  don't  understand."  The  girl's  lips  were 
quivering. 

Olga  went  on,  "  And  your  days  at  Silverstein's  are 
numbered  too.     I  showed  your  embroidery  to  Miss 


192  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Laura,  and  she  has  found  you  a  place  at  Bayly's  Art 
Store.  You  can  go  there  as  soon  as%  you  can  leave 
Silverstein's,"  she  ended.  To  her  utter  dismay  Li- 
zette  dropped  her  head  on  the  table  and  began  to  cry. 
Olga  sat  looking  at  her  in  silence.  She  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  But  presently  Lizette  lifted  her  blurred 
and  tear-stained  face  and  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  You  must  excuse  me  this  once,"  she  cried.  "  I'm 
not  tear-y  as  a  general  thing,  but — but,  I  hadn't  dared 
to  hope — for  anything — and  it  bowled  me  over.  I'll 
promise  not  to  do  so  again ;  but  O,  Olga  Priest,  I'll 
never,  never  forget  what  you've  done,  as  long  as  I 
live !  " 

"  It's  not  I,  it's  Miss  Laura.  I  couldn't  have  got 
you  the  place." 

"  I  know,  and  I'm  grateful  to  Miss  Laura,  but  that 
isn't  half  as  much  as  your  letting  me  come  here.  I — I 
won't  be  a  bother,  truly  I  won't.  But  O,  it  will  be  so 
heavenly  good  to  be  in  reach  of  somebody  who  cares 
even  a  little  bit.  You  shall  not  be  sorry,  Olga — I 
promise  you  that." 

"  I'm  not  sorry.  I'm  glad,"  Olga  said.  "  Come 
now  and  see  the  room." 

It  was  a  small  room — the  one  across  the  hall — and 
rather  shabby,  with  its  matting  soiled  and  torn,  its 
cheap  iron  bedstead  and  painted  washstand  and  chairs. 
Lizette  however  was  quite  content  with  it. 

"  It's  lots  better  than  the  one  I  have  at  Rankin's," 
she  declared. 

But  the  next  day  Laura  came  and  saw  the  room, 
and  then  sent  word  to  all  the  girls  except  Lizette 
to  come  on  Wednesday  evening  to  the  Camp  Fire 
room    and    bring    their    thimbles.     And    when    they 


LIZETTE  193 

came  she  had  some  soft  curtain  material  to  be  hemmed, 
and  some  cream  linen  to  be  hemstitched.  Many 
fingers  made  light  work,  and  all  was  finished  that 
evening,  and  an  appointment  made  with  two  of  the 
High  School  girls  for  the  next  Monday  afternoon. 
Then  two  hours  of  steady  work  transformed  the  bare 
little  room.  There  was  fresh  white  matting  on  the 
floor  with  a  new  rag  rug  before  the  white  enamelled 
bedstead  with  its  clean  new  mattress,  a  chiffonier  and 
washstand  of  oak,  with  two  chairs,  and  a  tiny  round 
table  that  could  be  folded  to  save  room.  The  soft 
cream  curtains  that  the  girls  had  hemmed  shaded  the 
window,  and  the  linen  covers  were  on  the  chiffonier 
and  washstand. 

"  Doesn't  it  look  fresh  and  pretty !  "  Alice  Reynolds 
cried,  as  she  looked  around,  when  all  was  done. 

"  I'm  sure  she'll  like  it,"  Elsie  Harding  added. 

"  Like  it  ?  "  Olga  spoke  from  the  doorway. 
"  You  can't  begin  to  know  what  it  will  mean  to  her. 
You'd  have  to  see  her  room  at  Rankin's  to  understand. 
But  that  isn't  all.  Lizette  will  believe  now  that  some- 
body cares." 

"  O !  "  Elsie's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  Did  she  think 
that — that  nobody  cared  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  was  '  most  at  the  end  of  her  rope  '  the 
first  time  she  came  to  see  me." 

"  She  shall  never  again  feel  that  nobody  cares," 
Laura  said  softly. 

"  Indeed,  no!  "  echoed  Alice,  and  added,  "  I'm  going 
to  bring  down  a  few  books  to  put  on  that  table." 

"  I'll  make  a  hanging  shelf  to  hold  them.  That 
will  be  better  than  having  them  on  the  table,"  Elsie 
said. 


194  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  And  I'll  bring  some  growing  plants  for  the 
window-sill,"  Laura  promised. 

"  O,  I  hope  she'll  just  love  this  room,"  Elsie  cried, 
when  reluctantly  they  turned  away. 

"  She  will — you  needn't  be  afraid,"  Olga  assured 
her. 

But  Olga  was  the  only  one  privileged  to  see  Lizette 
when  she  had  her  first  glimpse  of  the  room.  She 
stopped  short  inside  the  door  and  looked  around  her, 
missing  no  single  detail.  Then  she  turned  to  Olga  a 
face  stirred  with  emotion  too  deep  for  words.  When 
she  did  speak  it  was  in  a  whisper.  "  For  me?  Olga, 
who  did  it?  " 

"  Miss  Laura,  Elsie;  and  Alice — and  we  all  helped  on 
the  curtains  and  covers." 

"  I  just  can't  believe  it.  I — I  must  be  dreaming. 
Don't  let  me  wake  up  till  I  enjoy  it  a  little  first,"  she 
pleaded.  After  a  moment  she  added,  "  And  this  all 
came  through  the  Camp  Fire,  and  my  place  at  Miss 
Bayly's  too.  Olga  Priest,  I'm  a  Camp  Fire  Girl  heart 
and  soul  and  body  from  now  on.  I've  been  only  the 
shell  of  one  before,  but  now — now,  I've  got  to  pass 
this  on  somehow.  I  must  do  things  for  other  girls 
that  have  no  one  and  nothing — as  they've  done  this 
for  me." 

And  through  Olga's  mind  floated  like  a  glad  refrain, 
"  '  Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  for- 
gotten.' " 

Olga  was  glad  —  glad  with  all  her  heart  —  for 
Lizette,  and  yet  that  first  evening  she  sat  in  her  own 
room  dreading  to  hear  the  tap  on  her  door  which  she 
expected  every  moment.     At  nine  o'clock,  however,  it 


LIZETTE  195 

had  not  come,  and  then  she  went  across  and  did  the 
knocking  herself. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  Lizette  cried,  as  she  opened 
her  door. 

"  I've  been  expecting  you  over  all  the  evening," 
Olga  said,  "  and  when  you  didn't  come  I  was  afraid 
you  were  sick — or  something." 

Lizette  looked  at  her  with  a  queer  little  smile.  "  I 
know.  You  sat  there  thinking  that  you'd  never  have 
any  peace  now  with  me  so  near;  but  you  needn't 
worry.  I'm  not  going  to  haunt  you.  I've  got  a  home 
corner  here  all  my  own,  and  I  know  that  you  are 
there  just  across  the  hall,  and  that's  enough.  It's 
going  to  be  enough." 

"  But  I  don't  want  you  to  feel  that  way,"  Olga 
protested.     "  I  want  you  to  come." 

"  You  want  to  want  me,  you  mean.  O,  I'm  sharp 
enough,  Olga,  if  I'm  not  smart.  I  know — and  I  don't 
mean  that  you  shall  ever  be  sorry  that  you  brought  me 
here.  If  I  get  way  down  in  the  doleful  dumps  some 
night  I'll  knock  at  your  door — perhaps.  Anyhow, 
you're  there,  and  that  means  a  lot  to  me." 

Almost  every  evening  after  that  Olga  heard  light 
footsteps  and  voices  in  the  hall,  and  taps  on  Lizette's 
door.  Elsie  and  Alice  were  determined  she  should  no 
longer  feel  that  "nobody  cared,"  so  they  were  her  first 
callers,  but  others  followed.  Lizette  welcomed  them 
all  with  shining  eyes,  and  once  she  cried  earnestly,  "  I 
just  love  every  one  of  you  girls  now!  And  I  wish  I 
could  do  something  for  you  as  lovely  as  what  you  have 
done  for  me." 

"  And  that's  Lizette  Stone !  "  Lena  said  to  Eva  after 


196  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

they  left.  "  Who  would  ever  have  thought  she'd  say 
a  thing  like  that  ?  " 

For  more  than  a  week  Olga,  alone  in  her  room, 
listened  to  the  merry  voices  across  the  hall.  Then  one 
night,  she  put  aside  her  work,  and  went  across  again. 

"  I've  found  out  that  I'm  lonesome,"  she  said  as 
Lizette  opened  the  door.     "  May  I  come  in  ?  " 

"Well,  I  guess!"  and  Lizette  drew  her  in  and 
motioned  to  the  bed.  "  You  shall  have  a  reserved  seat 
there  with  Bessie  and  Myra,"  she  cried,  "  and  we're 
gladder  than  glad  to  have  you." 

For  a  moment  sheer  surprise  held  the  others  silent 
till  Olga  exclaimed,  "  Don't  let  me  be  a  wet  blanket. 
If  you  do  I  shall  run  straight  back." 

The  tongues  were  loosened  then  and  though  Olga 
said  little,  the  girls  felt  the  difference  in  her  attitude. 
She  lingered  a  moment  after  the  others  left,  to  say, 
"Lizette,  you  mustn't  stay  away  any  more.  I  really 
want  you  to  come  to  my  room." 

Lizette's  sharp  eyes  studied  her  face  before  she 
answered,  "  Yes,  I  see  you  do  now,  and  I'll  come. 
I'll  love  to." 

Back  in  her  own  room  Olga  turned  up  the  gas  and 
stood  for  some  minutes  looking  about.  Clean  it  was, 
and  in  immaculate  order,  but  bare,  with  no  touch 
of  beauty  anywhere.  The  contrast  with  the  simple 
beauty  of  Lizette's  room  made  her  see  her  own  in  a 
new  light.  The  words  of  the  Wood  Gatherer's 
"  Desire  "  came  into  her  mind — "  Seek  beauty."  She 
had  not  done  that.  "  Give  service."  She  had  given 
it,  grudgingly  at  first  to  Elizabeth,  grudgingly  all  this 
time  to  Sadie,  grudgingly  to  Lizette,  and  not  at  all  to 
any  one  else.     Only  one  part  of  her  promise  had  she 


LIZETTE  197 

kept  faithfully — to  "  Glorify  work."  She  had  done 
that,  after  a  fashion.  She  drew  in  her  breath  sharply. 
"  Lizette  is  a  long  way  ahead  of  me.  She  is  trying  to 
be  an  all-around  Camp  Fire  Girl.  If  I'm  going  to 
keep  up  with  her,  I  must  get  busy,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  Before  I  can  be  Miss  Laura's  Torch  Bearer  I've  a 
lot  to  make  up.  Here  I've  been  calling  Sadie  Page  a 
selfish  little  beast  and  all  the  time  I've  been  as  bad  as 
she  in  a  different  way.     Well — we'll  see." 

She  went  shopping  the  next  morning.  Her  pur- 
chases did  not  cost  much,  but  they  transformed  the 
bare  room.  Cheesecloth  curtains  at  the  windows,  a 
green  crex  rug  on  the  dull  stained  floor,  two  red 
geraniums,  and  on  the  mantelpiece  three  brass  candle- 
sticks holding  red  candles.  These  and  a  few  pretty 
dishes  were  all,  but  she  was  amazed  at  the  difference 
they  made.  At  six  o'clock  she  set  her  door  ajar,  and 
when  Lizette  came,  called  her  in. 

"  You  are  to  have  supper  with  me  to-night,"  she 
said. 

"  But  I've  had  my  supper.     I "  Lizette  began — 

then  stopped  short  with  a  little  cry,  "  O,  how  pretty! 
Why,  your  room  is  lovely  now,  Olga." 

"  You  see  the  influence  of  example,"  replied  Olga. 
"  Yours  is  so  pretty  that  I  couldn't  stand  the  bareness 
of  mine  any  longer." 

"  I'm  glad."  Lizette  spoke  earnestly.  "  Isn't  it 
splendid — the  way  the  Camp  Fire  ideas  grow  and 
spread?     They  are  making  me  over,  Olga." 

Olga  nodded.  "  Take  off  your  things.  I'll  have 
supper  ready  in  two  minutes.  Did  you  get  yours  at 
the  Cafeteria?" 


198  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Yes,  I'm  getting  all  my  meals  there — ten  cents 
apiece." 

"  Ten  cents.  I  know  you  don't  get  enough — for 
that,  Lizette  Stone." 

Lizette  laughed.  "  It's  all  I  can  afford,"  she  said 
"  out  of  six  dollars  a  week.     When  I  earn  more " 

"  You  can't  cook  for  yourself  as  I  do — you  haven't 
room.     Lizette,  why  can't  we  co-operate?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  breathlessly  Lizette  ques- 
tioned. 

"  I  mean,  take  our  meals  together  and  share  the 
expense.  It  won't  cost  you  more  than  thirty  cents  a 
day,  and  you'll  have  enough  then." 

"  But  I  can't  cook — I  don't  know  how,"  Lizette 
objected. 

"  I'll  teach  you.  And  you've  got  to  learn  before 
you  can  be  a  Fire  Maker,  you  know." 

"  Yes — I  know,"  said  Lizette  slowly,  "  and  I'd  like 
it,  but  you — Olga,  you'd  get  sick  of  it.  You're  used 
to  being  alone.  You  wouldn't  want  any  one  around 
every  day — you  know  you  wouldn't." 

"  It  would  be  better  for  me  than  eating  alone,  and 
better  for  you  than  the  Cafeteria.  Come,  Lizette, 
say  '  yes.'  " 

"  Yes,  then,"  Lizette  answered.  "  At  least  —  I'll 
try  it  for  a  month,  if  you'll  promise  to  tell  me  frankly 
at  the  end  of  the  month  if  you'd  rather  not  keep  on." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Olga. 

"  My !  But  it  will  be  good  to  have  a  change  from 
the  Cafeteria !  "  Lizette  admitted. 

And  now,  having  opened  her  heart  to  the  sunshine 
of  love,  Olga  began  to  find  many  pleasant  things 
springing  up  there.     She  no  longer  held  Miss  Laura 


LIZETTE  199 

and  the  girls  at  arm's  length.  They  were  all  friends, 
even  Lena  Barton  and  Eva  Bicknell,  whom  until  now 
she  had  regarded  with  scornful  indifference,  and  Sadie 
Page,  whom  she  had  barely  tolerated  for  Elizabeth's 
sake — even  these  she  counted  now  as  friends ;  and 
Laura,  noting  the  growing  comradeship — seeing  week 
by  week  the  strengthening  of  the  bond  between  the 
girls,  said  to  herself,  joyfully, 

"  It  was  in  Olga's  heart  that  the  fire  of  love  burst 
into  flame,  and  it  has  leaped  from  heart  to  heart  until 
now  I  believe  in  all  my  girls  it  is  burning — 'The  love 
of  man  to  man — the  love  of  man  to  God.'  " 


XV 
AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH 

SADIE  PAGE  burst  tumultuously  into  Olga's 
room  one  afternoon  and  hardly  waited  to  get 
inside  the  door  before  she  cried  out,  "  I've 
thought  of  something  Elizabeth  can  do — something 
splendid." 

"  Well,"  said  Olga  drily,  "  if  it  is  something  splendid 
for  Elizabeth,  I'll  excuse  you  for  coming  in  without 
knocking." 

"  All  right,  please  excuse  me,  I  forgot,"  Sadie 
responded  with  unusual  good  nature,  "  I  was  in  such 
a  hurry  to  tell  you.     It's  a  way  Elizabeth  can  earn 

money    at    home Now,    Olga    Priest,    I    think 

you're  real  mean  to  look  so !  "  she  ended  with  a  scowl. 

"  Look  how  ?  "  Olga  laughed. 

"  You  know.  As  if — as  if  I  was  just  thinking  of 
keeping  Elizabeth  at  home." 

"  But  weren't  you  ?  " 

"No,  I  zvasn't!"  Sadie  retorted.  "At  any  rate — I 
was  thinking  of  Elizabeth  too.     I  was,  honest,  Olga." 

"  Well,  tell  me,"  said  Olga. 

"  Why,  you  know  those  Christmas  cakes  she 
made?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  she  can  make  them  and  other  kinds  to  sell 
in  one  of  the  big  groceries.     I  saw  some  homemade 

200 


AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH     201 

cakes  in  Connell's  to-day  that  didn't  look  half  as  nice 
as  Elizabeth's  and  they  charged  a  lot  for  them." 

Olga  nodded  thoughtfully.  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
you'd  hit  upon  a  good  plan,  Sadie.  But  if  she  does 
that,  you'll  have  to  help  her  with  the  work  at  home, 
for  she  has  all  she  can  do  now." 

Sadie  scowled.  She  hated  housework.  "  Guess  I 
have  plenty  to  do  myself,"  she  grumbled,  "  with  school 
and  my  silver  work  and  all." 

"  But  your  silver  work  is  just  for  yourself,"  Olga 
reminded  her,  "  and  Elizabeth  has  no  time  to  do  any- 
thing for  herself." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  if  she  makes  lots  of  cakes  she'll 
have  money  for  herself." 

"  And  she's  got  to  have  money  for  herself,"  Olga 
said  decidedly.  "  I've  been  thinking  about  that." 
Sadie  wriggled  uneasily.  She  had  been  thinking  about 
it  too,  and  that  Elizabeth  would  be  eighteen  soon,  and 
free  to  go  out  and  earn  her  own  living,  if  she  chose. 

"  Well,  I  must  go  and  tell  her,"  she  said  and  left 
abruptly. 

Elizabeth  listened  in  silence  to  Sadie's  eager  plans, 
but  the  colour  came  and  went  in  her  face  and  her  blue 
eyes  were  full  of  longing. 

"  O,  if  I  could  only  do  it — if  I  only  could!"  she 
breathed.  "  But  I — I  couldn't  go  around  to  the  stores 
and  ask  them  to  sell  for  me.     I  never  could  do  that !  " 

"  Wrell,  you  don't  have  to.  I'd  do  that  for  you.  I 
wouldn't  mind  it,"  Sadie  declared.  "  You  just  make 
up  some  of  those  spicy  Christmas  cakes  and  some 
others,  a  few,  you  know,  just  for  samples,  and  I'll 
take  'em  out  for  you.     I  know  they'll  sell." 

"  I — I'm  not  so  sure,"  Elizabeth  faltered. 


THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Sadie's  brows  met  in  a  black  frown.  "  You're  a 
regular  'fraid-cat,  'Lizabeth  Page!"  she  exclaimed, 
stamping  her  foot.  "  How  do  you  ever  expect  to  do 
anything  if  you're  scared  to  try!  To-morrow's  Sat'- 
day.     Can't  you  get  up  early  an'  make  some  ?  " 

It  was  settled  that  she  should.  There  was  little 
sleep  for  Elizabeth  that  night,  so  eager  and  excited 
was  she,  and  very  early  in  the  morning  she  crept 
down  to  the  kitchen  and  set  to  work.  Before  her 
usual  rising  time,  Sadie  ran  downstairs,  buttoning  her 
dress  as  she  went. 

"  Have  you  made  'em  ?  "  she  demanded,  her  black 
eyes  snapping. 

"  Yes,"  Elizabeth  glanced  at  the  clock,  "  I'm  just 
going  to  take  them  out."  She  opened  the  oven  door, 
then  she  gasped  and  her  face  whitened  as  she  drew 
out  the  pans. 

"My  goodness!"  cried  Sadie.  "Elizabeth  Page — 
what  ails  'em?" 

"O—O!"  wailed  Elizabeth,  "I  must  have  left 
out  the  baking  powder — and  I  never  did  before  in  all 
my  life !  " 

"Well!"    Sadie   exploded.     "If   this    is   the    way 

you're  going  to "     Then  the  misery  in  Elizabeth's 

face  was  too  much  for  her.  She  stopped  short,  biting 
her  tongue  to  keep  back  the  bitter  words. 

Elizabeth  crouched  beside  the  oven,  her  tears  drop- 
ping on  the  cakes. 

"  O,  come  now — no  need  to  cry  all  over  'em — they're 
flat  enough  without  any  extra  wetting,"  Sadie  ex- 
claimed after  a  moment's  silence.  "  You  just  fling 
them  out  an'  make  some  more  after  breakfast.  I  bet 
you'll  never  leave  out  the  baking  powder  again." 


AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH     203 

"  I  never,  never  could  again,"  sobbed  Elizabeth. 

"  O,  forget  it,  an'  come  on  in  to  breakfast,"  Sadie 
said  with  more  sympathy  in  her  heart  than  in  her 
words. 

"  I  don't  want  any — I  couldn't  eat  a  mouthful.  You 
take  in  the  coffee,  Sadie — everything  else  is  on  the 
table." 

"  Well,  you  just  make  more  cakes  then.  They'll 
be  all  right — the  next  ones — I  know  they  will,"  and 
coffee-pot  in  hand,  Sadie  whisked  into  the  dining- 
room. 

And  the  next  cakes  were  all  right.  Sadie  gloated 
over  them  as  Elizabeth  spread  the  icing,  and  added 
the  fancy  touches  with  pink  sugar  and  citron. 

When  she  had  gone  away  with  the  cakes  Elizabeth 
cooked  and  cleaned,  washed  dishes,  and  swept,  but  all 
the  time  her  thoughts  followed  Sadie.  She  dared  not 
let  herself  hope,  and  yet  the  time  seemed  endless. 
But  at  last  the  front  door  slammed,  there  were  flying 
feet  in  the  hall,  and  Sadie  burst  into  the  kitchen, 
flushed  and  triumphant. 

"  O— O  Sadie— did  you— will  they ?  "  Elizabeth 

stumbled  over  the  words,  her  breath  catching  in  her 
throat. 

Sadie  tossed  her  basket  on  the  table  and  bounced 
into  the  nearest  chair.  "Did  I,  and  will  they?"  she 
taunted  gaily.  "  Well,  I  guess  I  did  and  they  will, 
Elizabeth  Page !  " 

"  O,  do  tell  me,  Sadie— quick !  "  Elizabeth  begged, 
and  she  listened  with  absorbed  attention  to  the  story 
of  Sadie's  experiences,  and  could  hardly  believe  that 
Mr.  Burchell  had  really  agreed  to  sell  for  her. 

"  I  bet  Miss  Laura  had  been  talking  to  him,"  Sadie 


204.  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

ended,  "  for  he  asked  me  if  I  knew  her  and  then  said 
right  away  he'd  take  your  cakes  every  Wednesday  and 
Saturday.     Now  what  you  got  to  say?" 

"  N-n-nothing,"  cried  Elizabeth,  "  only — if  I  can 
really,  really  sell  them,  I'll  be  most  too  happy  to  live !  " 

All  that  day  Elizabeth  went  around  with  a  song  in 
her  heart.  The  first  consignment  of  cakes  sold 
promptly,  and  then  orders  began  to  come  in.  It  meant 
extra  work  for  her,  but  if  only  she  could  keep  on  sell- 
ing she  would  not  mind  that.  And  as  the  weeks 
slipped  away,  every  Saturday  she  added  to  the  little 
store  of  bills  in  her  bureau  drawer.  Even  when  she 
had  paid  for  her  materials  and  Mr.  Burchell's  commis- 
sion, and  for  a  girl  who  helped  her  with  the  Saturday 
work,  there  was  so  much  left  that  she  counted  it  and 
recounted  it  with  almost  incredulous  joy.  All  this 
her  very  own — she  who  never  before  had  had  even 
one  dollar  of  her  own !  O,  it  was  a  lovely  world  after 
all,  Elizabeth  told  herself  joyfully. 

But  after  a  while  she  noticed  a  change  in  Sadie. 
She  was  still  interested  in  the  cake-making,  but  now 
it  seemed  a  cold  critical  interest,  lacking  the  warm 
sympathy  and  delight  in  it  which  she  had  shown  at 
first.  Elizabeth  longed  to  ask  what  was  wrong  but 
she  had  not  the  courage,  so  she  only  questioned  with 
her  eyes.  Maybe  by-and-by  Sadie  would  tell  her. 
If  not — with  a  long  sigh  Elizabeth  would  leave  it 
there,  wistfully  hoping.  So  April  came  and  Elizabeth 
was  eighteen  years  old,  though  still  she  looked  two 
years  younger.  She  did  not  suppose  that  any  one  but 
herself  would  remember  her  birthday — no  one  ever 
had  through  all  the  years.  Sadie's  glance  seemed 
sharper  and  colder  than  usual  that  morning,  and  Eliza- 


AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH     205 

beth  sorrowfully  wondered  why.  The  postman  came 
just  as  Sadie  was  starting  for  school.  He  handed  her 
an  envelope  addressed  to  Elizabeth,  and  she  carried 
it  to  the  kitchen. 

"  For  me? "  Elizabeth  cried,  hastily  taking  her 
hands  from  the  dish-water.  She  drew  from  the 
envelope  a  birthday  card  in  water-colour  with  Laura's 
initials  in  one  corner. 

"  O,  isn't  it  lovely !  "  she  cried.  "  I  never  had  a 
birthday  —  anything  —  before.  Isn't  it  beautiful, 
Sadie?" 

"  Uh-huh,"  was  all  Sadie's  response,  but  her  lack 
of  enthusiasm  could  not  spoil  Elizabeth's  pleasure  in 
the  gift.  Somebody  remembered — Miss  Laura  re- 
membered and  made  that  just  for  her,  and  joy  sang 
in  her  heart  all  day.  And  in  the  evening  Olga  came 
bringing  a  little  silver  pin.  Elizabeth  looked  at  it 
with  incredulous  delight. 

"For  me!"  she  said  again.  "O  Olga,  did  you 
really  make  this  for  me  ?  " 

Olga  laughed.     "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I — I  can't  find  anything  to  say — I  want  to  say  so 
much,"  Elizabeth  cried,  her  lips  quivering. 

Olga  leaned  over  and  kissed  her.  "  I  just  enjoyed 
making  it — for  you,"  she  said. 

She  was  almost  startled  at  the  radiance  in  Eliza- 
beth's eyes  then.  "  It  has  been  the  loveliest  day  of  all 
my  life!  "  she  whispered.     "  I " 

They  were  in  Elizabeth's  little  room,  and  now 
hurried  footsteps  sounded  on  the  stairs,  and  Sadie 
pushed  open  the  door. 

"  That  yours  ? "  she  demanded,  her  sharp  eyes  on 
the  pin. 


206  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Elizabeth  held  it  towards  her  with  a  happy  smile. 
"  Olga  made  it  for  me.    Isn't  it  lovely  ?  " 

Sadie  did  not  answer,  but  plumped  herself  down  on 
the  narrow  cot.  When  Olga  had  gone,  Sadie  still  sat 
there,  her  black  eyes  cold  and  unfriendly.  "  Don't 
see  why  you  lugged  Olga  up  here,"  she  began. 

"  She  asked  me  to." 

"  Humph !  "  Sadie  grunted. 

"  Sadie,"  Elizabeth  said,  gently,  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter ?    Have  I  done  anything  you  don't  like  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  so." 

"  No,  but  you've  been  different  to  me  lately,  and  I 
don't  know  why.  You  were  so  nice  a  few  weeks  ago 
— you  don't  know  how  glad  it  made  me.  I  hoped  we 
were  going  to  be  real  sisters,  but  now,"  she  drew  a 
long  sorrowful  breath,  "  it  is  as  it  used  to  be." 

Sadie,  swinging  one  foot,  gnawed  at  a  fingernail. 
Finally,  "  I  helped  you  start  the  cake-making,"  she 
reminded. 

"  I  know — I  never  forget  it,"  Elizabeth  said  warmly. 

"  You've  made  a  lot  of  money " 

"  It  seems  a  lot  to  me — forty-seven  dollars — just 
think  of  it !     I  haven't  spent  any  except  for  materials." 

"  And  you'll  make  more." 

"  Yes,  but  Mr.  Burchell  says  cakes  don't  sell  after 
it  gets  hot.     He  won't  want  any  after  May." 

"  That's  four  or  five  weeks  longer.  You'll  have 
enough  to  get  you  heaps  of  fine  clothes,"  Sadie  flung 
out  enviously,  with  one  of  her  needle-sharp  glances. 

"  O — clothes  !  "  returned  Elizabeth  slightingly.  "  I 
suppose  I  must  have  a  few — shoes,  and  a  plain  hat  and 
a  blue  serge  skirt,  and  some  blouses — they  won't  cost 
much." 


AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH     207 

"  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  that 
money?"  Sadie  blurted  out  the  question  impatiently. 

Elizabeth  smiled  into  the  frowning  face — a  beautiful 
happy  smile — as  she  answered  gently,  "  I'll  tell  you, 
Sadie.  I've  been  longing  to  tell  you  only — only  you've 
held  me  off  so  lately.  I'm  going  to  send  two  girls  to 
Camp  Nepahwin  for  three  weeks  in  August.  I'm  one 
of  the  girls  and — you  are  the  other." 

For  once  in  her  life  Sadie  Page  was  genuinely 
astonished  and  genuinely  ashamed.  For  a  long 
moment  she  sat  quite  still,  the  colour  slowly  mounting 
in  her  face  until  it  flamed.  Then,  all  the  sharpness 
gone  from  her  voice,  she  stammered,  "  I — I — Eliza- 
beth, I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  you  paying 
for  me.  I — think  you're  real  good !  "  and  she  was 
gone. 

Elizabeth  looked  after  her  with  a  smile,  all  the 
shadows  gone  from  her  blue  eyes. 

One  hot  evening  a  week  later,  Elizabeth  and  Sadie 
met  Lizette  at  Olga's  door.  She  silently  led  the  way 
to  her  own  room. 

"  Olga's  sick,"  she  said,  dropping  wearily  down  on 
the  bed. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Sadie  demanded  before 
Elizabeth  could  speak. 

"  It's  a  fever.  The  doctor  can't  tell  yet  whether  it's 
typhoid  or  malarial,  but  she's  very  sick.  The  doctor 
has  sent  a  nurse  to  take  care  of  her." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  take  care  of  her,"  Elizabeth 
said  earnestly. 

"  Well,  you  can't !  "  Sadie  snapped  out.  "  And, 
anyhow,  she  doesn't  need  you  if  she  has  a  nurse." 

"  But  the  nurse  must  sleep  sometimes — I  could  help 


208  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

then.  O  Lizette,  ask  Olga  to  let  me,"  Elizabeth 
pleaded. 

"  She  won't."  Lizette  shook  her  head.  "  Much  as 
ever  she'll  let  me  do  anything.  I  get  the  meals  for  the 
nurse — Olga  takes  only  milk.  The  nurse  says  she  can 
do  with  only  four  hours'  sleep,  and  I  can  see  to  Olga 
that  little  time." 

"  No,"  Elizabeth  said  decidedly,  "  no,  Lizette,  you 
have  your  work  at  the  shop  and  the  cooking.  You 
mustn't  do  more  than  that.  I  can  come  after  supper 
— at  eight  o'clock — and  stay  till  twelve " 

"  You  couldn't  go  home  all  alone  at  midnight — you 
know  you  couldn't,"  Sadie  interrupted. 

"  I  needn't  to.     I  could  sleep  in  a  chair  till  morning." 

"  As  to  that,  you  could  sleep  on  the  nurse's  cot,  I 
guess,"  Lizette  admitted.  "  Well,  if  Olga  will  let  you 
—I'll  ask  her." 

But  as  she  started  up  Elizabeth  gently  pushed  her 
back.  "  No,  don't  ask  her.  I'll  just  come  to-morrow 
night,  anyway." 

"  Let  it  go  so,  then,"  Lizette  answered.  "  Maybe  it 
will  be  best,  for  I'm  pretty  well  tired  out  myself 
with  the  heat,  and  worrying  over  Olga,  and  all.  I 
knew  she  was  overworking  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 

On  the  way  home  Elizabeth  was  silent  until  Sadie 
broke  out  gloomily,  "  I  s'pose  if  she  don't  get  better 
you  won't  go  to  the  camp,  'Lizabeth." 

"  O,  no,  I  couldn't  go  away  and  leave  her  sick — of 
course,  I  couldn't." 

"  Huh  !  "  growled  Sadie.  "  You  don't  think  about 
me,  only  just  about  Olga,  and  she  isn't  your  sister." 

At  another  time  Elizabeth  would  have  smiled  at  this 
belated  claim  of  relationship,  but  now  she  said  only, 


AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH     209 

"  Olga  has  been  so  good  to  me,  Sadie — I  never  can 
forget  it — and  now  when  I  have  a  chance  to  do  a 
little  for  her,  I'm  so  glad  to  do  it!  I  couldn't  enjoy 
the  camp  if  I  left  her  here  sick,  but  it  won't  make  any 
difference  to  you.     You  can  go  just  the  same." 

Sadie's  face  cleared  at  that.  "  We-ell,"  she  agreed, 
"  I  might  just  as  well  go.  I  couldn't  do  anything 
much  for  Olga  if  I  stayed;  and  maybe,  anyhow,  she'll 
get  well  before  the  tenth.     I'm  most  sure  she  will." 

"  O,  I  hope  so,"  Elizabeth  sighed,  but  she  was  not 
thinking  of  the  camp. 

Anxious  weeks  followed,  for  Olga  was  very  sick. 
Day  after  day  the  fever  held  her  in  restless  misery, 
and  when  at  last  it  yielded  to  the  treatment,  it  left 
her  weak  and  worn — the  shadow  of  her  former  self. 

Then  one  morning  Miss  Laura  came,  and  carried 
her  and  the  nurse  off  to  the  yacht,  and  there  followed 
quiet,  restful,  beautiful  days  for  Olga — such  days  as 
she  had  never  dreamed  of.  Judge  Haven  and  Jim, 
and  Jo  Barton  were  on  the  yacht,  but  she  saw  little 
of  any  one  except  Miss  Laura  and  the  nurse,  and  day 
by  day  strength  came  back  to  her  body  as  the  joy  of 
life  flooded  her  soul. 

One  night  sitting  on  deck  in  the  moonlight,  she  said 
suddenly,  "  Miss  Laura,  I'm  glad  of  this  sickness." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I've  learned  a  big  lesson.  I've  learned 
why  Camp  Fire  Girls  must  '  Hold  on  to  health.'  I 
didn't  know  before,  else  I  would  not  have  been  so 
careless — so  wicked.  I  see  now  that  it  was  all  my  own 
fault.  I  should  not  have  been  sick  if  I  had  taken 
care  of  myself — if  I  had  held  on  to  my  health  as  you 
tried  so  hard  to  make  me  do." 


210  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Yes,  dear,  you  had  to  have  a  hard  lesson  because 
you  had  always  had  such  splendid  health  that  you 
didn't  know  what  it  would  mean  to  lose  it." 

"  Yes,"  Olga  agreed,  "  I  didn't  believe  that  I  could 
get  sick — I  was  so  strong.  And  down  in  my  heart  I 
really  half  believed  that  people  need  not  be  sick — that 
it  was  mostly  imagination.  I  shall  not  be  so  unchari- 
table after  this." 

"  Girls  need  not  be  sick  many  times  when  they  are," 
Laura  said,  "  if  they  would  be  more  careful  and 
reasonable." 

"  I  know.  I  won't  go  with  wet  feet  any  more," 
Olga  promised,  "  and  I  won't  work  fourteen  hours  a 
day  and  go  without  eating,  as  I've  been  doing  this 
summer.  You  see,  Miss  Laura,  when  I  got  the  order 
for  all  that  silver  work,  I  knew  that  if  I  could  fill  it 
satisfactorily,  it  would  mean  many  other  orders.  And 
I  did — I  finished  the  last  piece  the  day  I  was  taken 
sick.  But  now  the  money  I  got  for  it  will  go  to  the 
doctor  and  the  nurse,  and  I've  lost  all  this  time  and 
other  work.  And  that  isn't  all.  My  sickness  made 
it  harder  for  Lizette  and  Elizabeth.  I  can't  forgive 
myself  for  that.  They  were  so  good  to  me,  and  so 
were  all  the  Camp  Fire  Girls!  Every  single  one  of 
them  came  to  see  me,  some  of  them  many  times,  and 
they  brought  so  many  things,  and  all  wanted  to  stay 
and  help — O,  they  are  the  dearest  girls !  " 

Laura's  eyes  searched  the  eyes  of  the  other  in  the 
moonlight. 

"Olga,  are  you  happy?"  she  asked  softly. 

Olga  caught  her  breath  and  for  a  moment  was 
silent.  When  she  spoke  there  was  wonder  and  a  great 
joy  in  her  voice.     "  O,  I  am — I  am !  "  she  said.     "  And 


AN  OPEN  DOOR  FOR  ELIZABETH     211 

— and  I  believe  I  have  been  for  a  long  time,  but  I  never 
realised  it  till  this  minute.  I  didn't  zvant  to  be  happy 
— I  didn't  mean  to  be — after  mother  died.  I  shut  my 
heart  tight  and  wouldn't  see  anything  pleasant  or 
happy  in  all  my  world.  It  was  so  when  I  went  to  the 
camp  last  year.  I  went  just  to  please  Miss  Grandis 
because  she  had  gotten  me  into  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
work,  and  though  I  wanted  to  refuse,  I  couldn't, 
when  she  asked  me  to  go.  But  I'm  so  glad  now  that 
I  went — so  glad!  Just  think  if  I  had  not  gone,  and  had 
never  known  you  and  Elizabeth,  and  Lizette,  and  the 
others !  Miss  Laura,  I  can't  ever  be  half  glad  enough 
for  all  that  the  Camp  Fire  has  done  for  me." 

"  You  will  pay  it  all  back — to  others,  Olga,"  Laura 
said  gently,  her  eyes  shining.  "  When  I  made  you  my 
Torch  Bearer,  you  did  not  realise  the  importance  of 
holding  on  to  health,  nor  the  duty  as  well  as  privilege 
of  being  happy.     Now  you  do." 

"  O,  I  do — I  do!"  the  girl  cried  earnestly. 

"  So  now  my  Torch  Bearer  is  ready  to  lead  others." 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  do  it  now.  I  want  to  '  pass  on '  all 
that  you  and  the  girls  have  done  for  me.  It  will  take 
a  lifetime  to  do  it,  though.  And — I'm  not  half  good 
enough  for  a  Torch  Bearer,  Miss  Laura." 

"If  you  thought  you  were  good  enough  I  shouldn't 
want  you  to  be  one,"  Laura  answered. 


XVI 
CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AND  THE  FLAG 

MISS  LAURA'S  girls  had  been  at  the  camp  a 
few  days  when  Sadie  Page  one  morning  raced 
breathlessly  up  to  a  group  of  them,  crying 
out,  "  There's  a  big  white  yacht  coming — I  saw  it  from 
the  Lookout.     Do  you  s'pose  it's  Judge  Haven's?" 

"Won't  it  be  splendid  if  it  is — if  it's  bringing  Miss 
Laura  and  Olga !  "  Frances  Chapin  cried.  "  Could 
you  see  the  name,  Sadie  ?  " 

"  No,  it  was  too  far  off." 

"  Let's  borrow  Miss  Anne's  glass,"  cried  two  or 
three  voices,  and  Frances  ran  off  in  search  of  Anne 
Wentworth.  When  she  returned  with  the  glass,  they 
all  rushed  over  to  the  Lookout.  The  yacht  was  just 
dropping  anchor  as  they  turned  the  glass  upon  it  and 
Frances  cried  out, 

"  O,  it  is — it  is !  I  can  read  the  name  easily. 
Here,  look !  "  she  surrendered  the  glass  to  Elsie. 

"  It  is  the  Sea  Gull,"  Elsie  confirmed  her,  "  and 
they  are  lowering  a  boat  already." 

"  O,  tell  us  if  Miss  Laura  gets  into  it,  and  Olga," 
cried  Lizette. 

"  Two  men — sailors,  I  suppose,  two  girls,  and  two 
boys,"  Elsie  announced. 

"  Then  it's  Miss  Laura  and  Olga  and  Jim  and  Jo 
Barton,"  Frances  cried  joyfully. 

"  Let's  hurry  down  to  the  landing  to  meet  them," 
212 


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CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AND  THE  FLAG     213 

Mary  Hastings  proposed,  and  instantly  the  whole 
group  turned  and  raced  back  to  camp  to  leave  the 
glass,  with  the  joyous  announcement,  "Miss  Laura's 
coming,  and  Olga.  We're  going  to  the  landing  to 
meet  them."  And  waiting  for  no  response  they  sped 
through  the  pines  to  the  landing-steps,  Elsie  snatching 
up  a  flag  as  she  passed  her  own  tent. 

"  Let's  all  go,"  one  of  the  other  girls  cried,  but  Miss 
Anne  said, 

"  No,  let  Miss  Laura's  girls  have  the  first  greeting — 
they  all  love  her  so !  But  we  might  go  to  the  Lookout 
and  wave  her  a  welcome  from  there." 

"  What  shall  we  wave  ?  "  some  one  asked,  and  an- 
other cried,  "  O,  towels,  handkerchiefs — anything. 
But  hurry!"  and  they  did,  reaching  the  Lookout 
breathless  and  laughing,  to  see  the  yacht  resting  like 
a  great  bird  on  the  blue  water,  and  the  small  boat 
already  nearing  the  point. 

"  Get  your  breath,  girls,  then — the  wohelo  cheer," 
said  Miss  Anne. 

Two  score  young  voices  followed  her  lead,  and  as 
they  chanted,  the  white  banners  fluttered  in  the  breeze. 
Instantly  there  came  a  response  from  the  boat  in 
fluttering  handkerchiefs  and  waving  caps,  while  the 
girls  below  on  the  landing  echoed  back  the  wohelo 
greeting. 

But  when  the  boat  rounded  the  point  the  voices  of 
those  on  the  landing  wavered  into  silence.  They  were 
too  glad  to  sing  as  they  saw  Laura  and  Olga  coming 
back  to  them — they  could  only  wait  in  silence. 
Lizette's  lips  were  quivering  nervously  and  Elizabeth's 
blue  eyes  were  full  of  happy  tears.  Even  Sadie  for 
once   was    silent,    but   she    waved    her    handkerchief 


214.  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

frantically  to  the  two  boys  who  were  gaily  swinging 
their  caps.  When  the  boat  reached  the  landing,  how- 
ever, and  the  girls  crowded  about  Laura  and  Olga, 
tongues  were  loosened,  and  everybody  talked. 

"  How  well  Olga  looks !  "  Mary  cried. 

"Doesn't  she?  I'm  so  proud  of  her  for  gaining  so 
fast !  "  Laura  laughed. 

"  I  couldn't  help  gaining  with  all  she  has  done  for 
me,"  Olga  said  with  a  grateful  glance. 

"  And  you've  come  to  stay?  Do  say  you  have,  Miss 
Laura,"  the  girls  begged. 

"  Of  course,  we're  going  to  stay — we've  been  home- 
sick for  the  camp,"  Laura  answered. 

"  That's  splendid.  We've  missed  you  so !  "  they 
cried. 

"  The  camp's  fine.  I'm  having  the  time  of  my 
life !  "  Sadie  declared,  and  added,  "  Elizabeth,  you 
haven't  said  one  word." 

"  She  doesn't  need  to,"  Olga  put  in  quickly,  her 
hand  on  Elizabeth's  shoulder. 

They  were  climbing  the  steps  now,  and  at  the  camp 
they  were  greeted  with  another  song  of  welcome  from 
the  Guardians  and  the  rest  of  the  girls,  and  then 
Laura  put  Olga  into  the  most  comfortable  hammock 
to  rest  and,  leaving  Elizabeth  beside  her,  carried  the 
others  off  for  a  talk. 

That  night  the  supper  was  a  festival.  The  girls 
had  gathered  masses  of  purple  asters  with  which  they 
had  filled  every  available  dish  to  decorate  the  tables, 
the  mantelpiece,  and  even  the  tents  where  the  new- 
comers were  to  sleep.  Miss  Anne  had  brought  to 
camp  a  big  box  of  tiny  tapers,  and  these  stuck  in 
yellow  apples  made  a  glow  of  light  along  the  tables. 


CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AND  THE  FLAG     215 

Nobody  appreciated  all  this  more  than  Jim.  With 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  he  stood  looking  about 
admiringly,  and  finally  expressed  his  opinion  thus : 
"  Gee,  but  it's  pretty !  Camp  Fire  Girls  beat  the 
Scouts  some  ways,  if  they  ain't  so  patriotic." 

Instantly  there  was  an  outburst  of  reproach  and 
denial  from  Miss  Laura's  girls. 

"  O,  come,  Jim,  that's  not  fair !  " 

"  We're  just  as  patriotic  as  the  Scouts !  " 

"  Boy  Scouts  can't  hold  a  candle  to  Camp  Fire 
Girls  any  way !  " 

"  We'll  put  you  out  if  you  go  back  on  Camp  Fire 
Girls,  Jim."' 

Jim,  flushed  and  a  little  bewildered  at  the  storm 
he  had  raised,  instinctively  sidled  towards  Laura, 
while  Jo,  close  behind  him,  chuckled,  "  Started  a  hor- 
nets' nest  that  time,  ol'  feller." 

Laura,  her  arm  about  the  boy's  shoulders,  quickly 
interposed.  "  We'll  let  Jim  explain  another  time.  I 
know  he  thinks  Camp  Fire  Girls  are  the  nicest  girls 
there  are,  don't  you,  Jim?  " 

"  Sure !  "  Jim  assented  hastily,  and  peace  was  re- 
stored— for  the  time. 

But  the  girls  did  not  forget  nor  allow  Jim  to.  The 
next  night  after  supper  they  swooped  down  on  him. 

"  Now  tell  us,  Jim,"  Lena  Barton  began,  "  why  you 
think  Boy  Scoots  are  more  patriotic  than  we  are." 

"  'Tisn't  Boy  Scoots — you  know  it  isn't,"  Jim 
countered,  flushing. 

"  O,  excuse  me."  Lena  bowed  politely.  "  I  only 
had  one  letter  wrong,  and,  anyhow,  they  do  scoot, 
don't  they?  Well,  Boy  Scouts  then,  if  you  like  that 
better." 


216  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  They  love  the  flag  better'n  you  do — lots  better !  " 
Jim  declared  with  conviction. 

"  Prove  it!     Prove  it!"  cried  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Er — er "  Jim  choked  and  stammered,  searching 

desperately  for  words.  "  You've  got  an  awful  nice 
Camp  Fire  room  at  Miss  Laura's,  but  you  haven't 
even  a  little  teeny  flag  in  it,  and  Scouts  always  have  a 
flag  in  their  rooms — don't  they,  Jo?"  he  ended  in 
triumph. 

"  You  bet  they  do !  "  Jo  stoutly  supported  his  friend. 

"  Ho !  That  doesn't  prove  anything.  Besides,  we'll 
have  a  flag  when  we  go  back,"  Lena  asserted  promptly. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  girls  an'  women  can't  fight  for  the 
flag,  so  of  course,  they  can't  be  so  patriotic,"  Jim  de- 
clared. 

"  Can't,  eh  ?  How  about  the  women  that  go  to  nurse 
the  wounded  men?  "  said  Mary. 

"  And  the  women  that  send  their  husbands  and  sons 
to  fight  ?  "  added  Elsie. 

"  And    how    about "    began    another    girl,    but 

Laura's  hand  falling  lightly  on  her  lips,  cut  short  the 
question,  and  then  Laura  dropped  down  on  the  grass 
pulling  Jim  down  beside  her.  Holding  his  hand  in 
both  hers,  and  softly  patting  it,  she  said,  "  Sit  down, 
girls,  and  we'll  talk  this  matter  over.  Jim's  hardly 
big  enough  or  old  enough  to  face  you  all  at  once. 
But,  honestly,  don't  you  think  there  is  some  truth  in 
what  he  says?  As  Camp  Fire  Girls,  do  we  think  as 
much  about  patriotism  as  the  Scouts  do?  Elsie,  you 
have  a  Scout  brother,  what  do  you  think  about 
it?" 

Elsie  laughed  but  flushed  a  little  too  as  she  answered, 
"  I  hate  to  admit  it,  but  I  don't  think  we  do." 


CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AND  THE  FLAG     217 

"  Time  we  did  then.  We  can't  have  any  Boy  Scouts 
getting  ahead  of  us,"  Lena  declared  emphatically. 

Jim,  gathering  courage  from  Miss  Laura's  champion- 
ship, looked  up  with  a  mischievous  smile.  "  Bet  you 
can't  tell  about  the  stars  and  stripes  in  the  flag,"  he 
said. 

"  Can  you ?  How  many  can?  "  Miss  Laura  looked 
about  the  group.  "  Elsie,  Frances — and  Mary — I  see 
you  can,  and  nobody  else  is  sure.  How  does  it  hap- 
pen?" There  was  a  twinkle  now  in  her  eyes.  "Is 
there  any  special  reason  for  you  three  being  better 
posted  than  the  others  ?  " 

The  three  girls  exchanged  smiling  glances,  and  Elsie 
admitted  reluctantly,  "  I  think  there  is — a  Boy  Scout 
reason — isn't  there,  Mary  ?  "  and  as  Mary  Hastings 
nodded,  Elsie  went  on,  "  You  know  my  brother  Jack 
is  the  most  loyal  of  Scouts,  and  before  he  was  old 
enough  to  be  one,  he  had  learned  all  the  things  that 
a  boy  has  to  know  to  join — and  to  describe  the  flag 
is  one  of  those  things.  He  discovered  one  day  that  I 
didn't  know  how  many  stars  there  are  on  it  and  how 
they  are  arranged,  and  he  was  so  dreadfully  distressed 
and  mortified  at  my  ignorance  that  I  had  to  take  a 
flag  lesson  from  him  on  the  spot — and  it  was  a  thor- 
ough one." 

"  Uh  huh !  "  Jim  triumphed  under  his  breath,  but 
the  girls  heard  and  there  was  a  shout  of  laughter. 
Over  the  boy's  head  Laura's  laughing  eyes  swept  the 
group. 

"  Jim,"  she  said,  "  will  you  ask  Miss  Anne  to  lend 
us  her  flag  for  a  few  minutes  ? " 

"Won't  ours  do?  Jo 'n*  I've  got  one,"  Jim  cried 
instantly,  and  as  Miss  Laura  nodded,  he  scampered  off. 


218  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  I  think  Jim  has  won,  girls,"  she  said,  and  then 
the  laughter  dying  out  of  her  eyes,  added  gravely, 
"  Really  I  quite  agree  with  him.  I  think  we — I  mean 
our  own  Camp  Fire — have  not  given  as  much  thought 
to  patriotism  as  we  ought.  There  have  been  so  many 
things  for  us  to  talk  about  and  work  for!  But  we'll 
learn  the  flag  to-day,  and  when  we  go  home,  it  may 
be  well  for  us  to  arrange  a  sort  of  '  course  '  in  patriot- 
ism for  the  coming  year.  Of  all  girls  in  America, 
those  who  live  in  Washington  ought  to  be  the  most 
interested  in  their  own  country.  We  will  all  be  more 
patriotic — better  Americans — a  year  from  now." 

Jim  came  running  back  with  a  small  silk  flag.  He 
held  it  up  proudly  for  the  inspection  of  the  girls,  and 
it  was  safe  to  say  that  they  would  all  remember  that 
brief  object  lesson.  It  was  Lena  whose  eyes  lingered 
longest  on  the  boy's  eager  face  as  he  looked  at  the 
flag. 

"  He  does — he  really  loves  it,"  she  said  won- 
deringly  to  Elsie  standing  beside  her.  "  He's  right. 
We  girls  don't  care  for  it  that  way — honest  we 
don't." 

"  Maybe  not  just  for  the  flag,"  Elsie  admitted,  "  but 
we  care  just  as  much  as  boys  do  for  our  country. 
Don't  you  think  we  do,  Miss  Laura?" 

"  I'm  not  sure,  Elsie.  You  see  many  boys  look 
forward  to  a  soldier's  life,  and  most  of  them  feel  that 
they  may  some  time  have  to  fight  for  their  flag — 
their  country — and  so  perhaps  they  think  more  about 
it  than  girls  do.  And  patriotism  is  made  prominent 
among  the  Scouts." 

"  They  always  salute  the  flag  wherever  they  see 
it,"  Mary  said. 


CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AND  THE  FLAG     219 

"  Must  keep  'em  busy  in  Washington,"  Lena  ob- 
served. 

"  It  does.  Jim  is  forever  saluting  it  when  he  is  out 
with  me,"  Laura  replied,  "  but  he  never  seems  to  tire 
of  it,  and  I  like  to  see  him  do  it." 

"  The  girls  salute  it  in  the  schools — you  know  we 
have  Flag  Day  every  year,"  Frances  added. 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  a  good  thing.  There  is  no  danger 
of  any  of  us  caring  too  much  for  our  country  or  the 
flag  that  represents  it.  When  I  catch  sight  of  our 
flag  in  a  foreign  land  I  always  want  to  kiss  it." 

"  Can't  we  have  one  in  our  Camp  Fire  room  when 
we  go  back?  "  Lena  asked. 

"  We  surely  will.  I'm  really  quite  ashamed  of  my- 
self for  not  having  one  long  ago.  We  owe  something 
— do  we  not? — to  a  going-to-be  Boy  Scout  for  remind- 
ing us  ?  "  Laura  said. 

They  admitted  that  they  did.  "  But,  anyhow," 
Frances  Chapin  added,  "  even  if  they  do  think  more 
about  the  Hag,  I  won't  admit  that  Scouts  love  their 
country  any  more  than  we  Camp  Fire  Girls  do.  We 
are  quite  as  patriotic  as  any  Boy  Scouts." 

"  And  that's  right !  "  Lena  flung  out  as  the  group 
separated. 


XVII 
SONIA 

"  X~^V    DEAR,  I  did  hope  it  wouldn't  be  awfully  hot 

I       1   when  we  got  back,  but  it  is,"  Lizette  Stone 

^"-^^  sighed  on  the  day  they  returned  from  camp. 
"Just  think  of  the  breeze  on  the  Lookout  this  very 
minute !  " 

Olga  glanced  over  her  shoulder  with  a  smile  as 
she  threw  open  her  door.  "  Let's  pretend  it's  cool 
here  too,"  she  said.  "  I'm  so  thankful  to  be  well  and 
strong  again  that  I'm  determined  to  be  satisfied  with 
things  as  they  are.  The  camp  was  lovely  and  Miss 
Laura  and  the  girls  were  dear,  but  this  is  home,  and 
my  work  is  waiting  for  me,  and  I'm  able  to  do  it. 
And  you  have  your  lovely  work  too,  Lizette,  and  your 
home  corner  across  the  hall." 

Lizette  looked  at  her  half  wondering,  half  envious, 
as  she  slowly  pulled  out  her  hatpins.  "  I  never  knew 
a  fever  to  change  a  girl  as  that  one  changed  you, 
Olga  Priest,"  she  said. 

"  Is  the  change  for  the  better?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,  but " 

"  But  what  ?  "  Olga  questioned,  half  laughing,  yet  a 
little  curious  too. 

"  Well — all  is,  I  can't  keep  up  with  you,"  Lizette 
dropped  unconsciously  into  one  of  her  country  phras- 
ings.  "  I  can't  help  getting  into  the  doleful  dumps 
sometimes,  and  I  can't — I  just  can't  be  happy  and  con- 

220 


'Just  think  of  the  Lookout  this  very  minute!' 


SONIA  221 

tented  with  the  mercury  at  ninety-three.  I  guess  it's 
easier  for  some  folks  to  stand  the  heat  than  it  is  for 
others." 

"  I  think  it  is,"  Olga  admitted.  "  Give  me  your  hat. 
Now  take  that  fan  and  sit  there  by  the  window  till  I 
come  back.  I'm  not  so  tired  as  you  are,  and  I  must 
get  something  for  our  supper." 

While  she  was  gone  Lizette  sat  thinking  of  the 
Camp  with  its  shady  woods  and  blue  water  and  wishing 
herself  back  there.  She  had  had  three  weeks  there, 
but  a  hateful  little  imp  was  whispering  in  her  ear  that 
some  of  the  girls  were  staying  four  or  five  weeks,  and 
it  wasn't  fair — it  wasn't  fair!  Of  course  it  was  better 
to  earn  her  living  doing  embroidery  than  in  Silver- 
stein's  store,  but  still,  some  girls  didn't  have  to  earn 
their  living  at  all,  and 

The  door  opened  and  Olga  came  breezily  in,  her 
hands  full  of  bundles.  "  I  really  ought  to  have  taken 
a  basket,"  she  said.  "  There's  the  nicest  little  home 
bakery  opened  just  around  the  corner — I  got  bread 
there." 

"  I'm  not  a  bit  hungry,"  Lizette  said  listlessly,  then 
started  up,  crying  out,  "  Well,  I  am  ashamed  of  my- 
self !  I  meant  to  have  the  table  set  when  you  came 
back,  and  I  forgot  all  about  it." 

"  Never  mind — I'll  have  it  ready  in  a  minute.  Sit 
still,  Lizette." 

But  Lizette  insisted  upon  helping,  and  her  face 
brightened  as  Olga  set  forth  fresh  bread,  nut  cakes, 
ice  cold  milk,  and  a  dish  of  sliced  peaches. 

"  Weren't  you  mistaken  ?  "  Olga  asked  with  a  laugh. 
"  Aren't  you  a  little  bit  hungry  ?  " 


222  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Yes,  I  am.  How  good  that  bread  looks — and  the 
peaches." 

"  After  all  it  is  rather  nice  to  be  back  here  at  our 
own  little  table,  isn't  it?"  Olga  asked  as  they  lingered 
over  the  meal. 

Lizette  looked  at  her  curiously.  "  Olga  Priest,  what 
makes  you  so  happy  to-night  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I 
never  saw  you  so  before." 

"  Maybe  not  quite  so  happy,  but  wasn't  I  happy  all 
the  time  at  camp  ?     Wasn't  I,  Lizette  ?  " 

"  Yes — yes,  you  were,  only  I  didn't  notice  it  so  much 
there  with  all  the  girls,  and  something  always  going 
on.  You  never  were  so  here  before.  Sometimes  you 
wouldn't  smile  for  days  at  a  time." 

"  I  know.  I  hadn't  realised  then  that  I  could  be 
happy  if  I'd  let  myself  be — and  that  I  had  no  right 
not  to." 

"  No  right  not  to,"  Lizette  echoed  with  a  puzzled 
frown.  "  I  don't  see  that.  I  should  think  anybody 
might  have  the  privilege  of  being  blue  if  she  likes." 

"  No."  Olga  shook  her  head  with  decision.  "  No, 
not  when  she  has  health,  and  work  that  she  likes,  and 
friends.  A  girl  has  no  right  to  be  unhappy  under 
those  conditions — and  I've  found  it  out  at  last.  I'm 
going  to  keep  my  Camp  Fire  promises  now  as  I  never 
have  done." 

After  a  little  silence  she  went  on,  "  I've  such  beauti- 
ful plans  for  our  Camp  Fire  this  year !  One  of  them 
is  to  learn  all  we  can  about  our  country.  We  can't 
have  Jim,"  laughter  flashed  into  her  eyes  as  she  thought 
of  him,  "  thinking  us  less  patriotic  than  his  beloved 
Scouts.  And  we  can  see  and  learn  so  much  right  here 
in  Washington!     I'm  ashamed  to  think  how.  little  I 


SONIA  223 

know  about  this  beautiful  city  where  I've  lived  all  my 
life.  I  mean  to  '  know  my  Washington '  thoroughly 
before  I'm  a  year  older." 

Lizette  did  not  seem  much  interested  in  patriotism, 
but  she  laughed  over  the  remembrance  of  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  girls  at  Jim's  remark  about  their  lack  of  it. 
"  He  did  look  so  plucky,  facing  us  all  that  day,  didn't 
he !  "  she  said.  "  And  he  was  scared  too  at  the  rumpus 
he  had  raised;  but  all  the  same  he  didn't  back  down." 

"  No,  Jim  wouldn't  back  down  if  he  thought  he  was 
right  no  matter  how  scared  he  might  be  inside." 

"  Well,"  Lizette  yawned,  "  I'm  so  sleepy  I  can 
hardly  hold  my  eyes  open.  Let's  wash  the  dishes  and 
then  I'm  going  straight  to  bed." 

She  came  in  to  breakfast  the  next  morning  in  a 
different  mood. 

"  Didn't  we  have  a  glorious  rain  in  the  night !  "  she 
cried  gaily.  "  And  it  left  a  lovely  cool  breeze  behind 
it.  Last  night  I  felt  like  a  wet  rag,  but  this  morning 
I'm  a  different  creature.  It  is  good  to  be  '  home ' 
again,  Olga,  and  I  don't  mind  going  back  to  the 
shop." 

"  That's  good !  "  Olga's  eyes  were  shining  as  they 
had  shone  the  night  before. 

The  two  set  off  together  after  breakfast,  and  wished 
each  other  good  luck  as  they  parted  at  the  door  of 
Miss  Bayly's  shop.  Lizette  came  back  at  night  jubi- 
lant. "  I  got  my  good  luck,  Olga,"  she  cried.  "  I'm 
to  have  eight  a  week  now.     Isn't  that  fine  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is — congratulations,  Lizette.  And  I  had 
my  good  luck  too — better  than  I  dared  hope  for — two 
splendid  orders.  Now  we  can  both  settle  down  to 
work  and  get  a  nice  start  before  the  next  Camp  Fire 


224  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

meeting.  I'm  going  to  try  to  keep  half  a  day  a  week 
free  for  our  '  learning  Washington '  trips." 

"Personally  conducted?"  Lizette  laughed. 

"  Personally  conducted.  Your  company  is  solicited, 
Miss  Stone,  whenever  your  other  engagements  will 
permit." 

Over  the  tea-table  they  talked  of  work  and  Camp 
Fire  plans,  and  then  Lizette  went  off  to  her  own 
■ "  corner  "  and  Olga  took  up  a  book.  She  had  been 
reading  for  an  hour  when  her  quick  ears  caught  the 
sound  of  hesitating  steps  outside  her  door — steps  that 
seemed  to  linger  uncertainly.  Thinking  that  some 
stranger  might  have  wandered  in  from  the  street,  she 
rose  and  quietly  slipped  her  bolt.  As  she  did  so  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.  She  stood  still,  listening 
intently.  No  one  ever  came  to  her  door  except  the 
landlady  or  the  Camp  Fire  Girls,  and  none  of  them 
would  knock  in  this  hesitating  fashion.  She  was  not 
in  the  least  timid,  and  when  the  knock  was  repeated 
she  opened  the  door.  She  found  herself  facing  a 
woman,  young,  in  a  soiled  and  wrinkled  dress  and 
shabby  hat,  and  carrying  a  baby  in  her  arms. 

"Olga — it  is  Olga?"  the  woman  exclaimed  half 
doubtfully. 

Olga  did  not  answer.  She  stood  staring  into  the 
woman's  face  and  suddenly  her  own  whitened  and  her 
eyes  widened  with  dismay. 

"You?"  she  said  under  her  breath.     "  You!" 

"  Yes,  I — Sonia.  Aren't  you  going  to  let  me 
in?" 

For  an  instant  Olga  hesitated,  then  she  stood  aside, 
but  in  that  moment  all  the  happy  hopefulness  seemed 
to  melt  out  of  her  heart.     It  was  as  if  a  black  shadow 


SONIA  225 

of  disaster  had  entered  the  quiet  room  at  the  heels 
of  the  draggled  woman  and  her  child. 

"  This  is  a  warm  welcome,  I  must  say,  to  your  own 
sister,"  Sonia  said  in  a  querulous  tone,  as  she  dropped 
into  the  easiest  chair  and  laid  the  child  across  her 
knees.  It  made  no  sound,  but  lay  as  it  was  placed, 
its  eyes  half  closed  and  its  tiny  face  pinched  and 
colourless. 

"  I — I  can't  realise  that  it  is  really — you,"  Olga  said. 
"  Where  did  you  come  from,  and  how  did  you  find 
me?" 

"  I  came  from — many  places.  As  to  finding  you — 
that  was  easy.  You  are  not  so  far  from  the  old 
neighbourhood  where  I  left  you." 

"  Yes — you  left  me,"  Olga  echoed  slowly,  her  face 
dark  with  the  old  sombre  gloom.  "  You  left  me,  a 
child  of  thirteen,  with  no  money,  and  mother — 
dying !  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  rather  hard  on  you,  but  you  were 
always  a  plucky  one,  and  I  knew  well  enough  you 
would  pull  through  somehow.  As  to  mother,  of  course 
I  didn't  know — she'd  been  ailing  so  long,"  Sonia  de- 
fended herself,  "  and  Dick  wouldn't  take  '  no '  for 
an  answer.     I  had  to  go  with  him." 

Olga  was  silent,  but  in  her  heart  a  fierce  battle  was 
raging.  She  knew  her  sister — knew  her  selfish  dis- 
regard of  the  rights  or  wishes  of  others,  and  she 
realised  that  much  might  depend  on  what  was  said 
now. 

"  Well?  "  Sonia  questioned,  breaking  the  silence  ab- 
ruptly. 

Olga  drew  a  long  weary  breath.    "  I — I  can't  think, 


226  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Sonia,"  she  said.  "  You  have  taken  me  so  by  surprise. 
I  don't  know  what  to  say." 

"  I  suppose  you're  not  going  to  turn  us  into  the 
street  to-night — the  baby  and  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  Olga  answered,  and  added,  "  Is 
the  baby  sick  ?  " 

Sonia's  eyes  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  small  pallid 
face,  but  there  was  no  softening  in  them  when  she 
looked  up  again.  "  She's  never  been  well.  The  first 
one  died — the  boy.  This  one  cried  day  and  night  for 
weeks  after  she  came.  Dick  couldn't  stand  it,  and  no 
wonder.  That's  the  reason  he  cleared  out — one 
reason." 

"  His  own  child !  "  cried  Olga  indignantly,  and  as 
she  looked  at  the  pitiful  white  face  her  heart  warmed 
towards  the  little  creature.  She  held  out  her  hands. 
"  Let  me  take  her." 

Sonia  promptly  transferred  the  baby  to  her  sister's 
arms,  and  rising,  crossed  to  the  small  sleeping-room. 

"You're  pretty  well  fixed  here,  with  two  rooms," 
she  remarked. 

"  It's  hardly  more  than  one — the  bedroom  is  so 
small." 

"  What  do  you  do  for  a  living?  "  Sonia  demanded. 

Olga  told  her. 

"  Hm.     Any  money  in  it  ?  " 

"  I  make  a  living,  but  I  had  a  long  sickness  last 
summer  and  it  took  all  I  had  and  more  to  pay  the 
bills." 

"O  well,"  replied  Sonia  carelessly,  "you'll  earn 
more.  You  look  well  enough  now."  She  stretched 
her  arms  and  yawned.  "  I'm  dead  tired.  How  about 
sleeping  ?    That  single  bed  won't  hold  the  three  of  us." 


SONIA  227 

"  You  can  sleep  there — I'll  sleep  on  the  floor  to-night. 
There's  no  other  way,"  Olga  answered. 

"  All  right  then.  I'll  get  to  bed  in  a  hurry,"  and 
taking  the  child  from  her  sister,  Sonia  undressed  it  as 
carelessly  as  if  it  had  been  a  doll.  The  baby  half 
opened  its  heavy  eyes  and  whimpered  a  little,  but  did 
not  really  awaken. 

When  Sonia  and  the  child  were  in  bed,  Olga  went 
across  to  Lizette's  room.  Lizette's  welcoming  smile 
vanished  at  sight  of  the  stern  set  face,  and  she  drew 
Olga  quickly  in  and  shut  the  door. 

"  O,  what  is  it  ?  What  has  happened,  Olga  ?  "  she 
cried  anxiously. 

"  My  sister  has  come  with  her  baby.  I  don't  know 
how  long  she  will  stay."  Olga  spoke  in  a  dull  lifeless 
voice.  "  I  came  to  tell  you,  so  that  you  could  get  your 
breakfast  somewhere  else.  You  wouldn't  enjoy  hav- 
ing it  with  me — now." 

"O  Olga,  I'm  so  sorry — so  sorry!"  Lizette  cried, 
her  hands  on  her  friend's  shoulders,  her  voice  full  of 
warm  sympathy. 

"  I  know,  Lizette,"  Olga  answered,  a  quivering  smile 
stirring  for  an  instant  the  old  hard  line  of  her  set  lips. 
Then  she  turned  away,  forgetting  to  say  good-night. 
When  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Lizette's  eyes  were 
full  of  tears. 

"  O,  it's  a  shame — a  shame !  "  she  said  aloud.  "  To 
think  how  happy  she  was  only  last  night,  and  now — 
now  she  looks  as  she  did  a  year  ago  before  Elizabeth 
went  to  the  camp.  O,  I  wonder  why  that  sister  had 
to  come  back !  " 

Lizette  lay  awake  long  that  night,  her  heart  full 
of  sympathy  for  her  friend,  and  Olga,  lying  on  her 


228  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

hard  bed  on  the  floor,  did  not  sleep  at  all.  She  went 
out  early  to  the  market,  and  coming  back,  prepared 
breakfast,  but  when  she  called  her  sister,  Sonia  an- 
swered drowsily: 

"  I'm  too  tired  to  get  up,  Olga.  Bring  me  some 
coffee  and  toast  here,  will  you  ?  " 

Olga  carried  her  a  tray,  and  Sonia  ate  and  drank 
and  then  turned  over  and  went  to  sleep  again,  and 
Olga,  having  washed  the  dishes,  went  off  to  the  school. 
All  day  she  worked  steadily,  forcing  back  the  thoughts 
that  crowded  continually  into  her  mind ;  but  when  she 
turned  homewards  the  dark  thoughts  swooped  down 
upon  her  like  a  flock  of  ravens,  blotting  out  all  her 
happy  hopes  and  joyous  plans,  for  she  knew — only 
too  well  she  knew — what  she  had  to  expect  if  Sonia 
remained. 

"  Well,  you've  come  at  last !  "  was  her  sister's  greet- 
ing. "  I  hope  you've  brought  something  nice  for  sup- 
per. I'm  nearly  starved.  And  you  didn't  leave  half 
enough  milk  for  the  baby." 

"  I  left  plenty  for  your  dinner,"  Olga  answered, 
"  and  I  thought  you  could  get  more  milk  for  the  baby 
if  you  wanted  it." 

"  Get  more !  How  could  I  get  it  without  money  ? 
And  you  didn't  leave  me  a  penny,"  Sonia  complained. 

Olga  brought  out  a  bottle  of  malted  milk.  "  That 
will  do  for  to-night,  won't  it?"  she  said,  trying  to 
speak  cheerfully. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  this  stuff."  Sonia 
was  reading  the  label  with  a  scowl.  "  You'll  have  to 
fix  it;  and  do  hurry,  for  she's  been  fretting  for  an 
hour." 

Without  a  word,  Olga  prepared  the  food  and  handed 


SONIA  229 

it  to  her  sister;  then  she  set  about  getting  supper; 
but  when  it  was  ready  she  felt  suddenly  too  tired 
to  eat.  Sonia  ate  heartily,  however,  remarking  with  a 
glance  at  Olga's  empty  plate,  "  I  suppose  you  got  a 
good  dinner  down  town." 

"  I  haven't  eaten  a  mouthful  since  breakfast,"  Olga 
told  her  wearily. 

"  O  well,"  Sonia  returned,  "  some  folks  don't  need 
much  food,  but  I  do.  If  I  don't  have  three  solid  meals 
a  day  I'm  not  fit  for  anything."  Then  looking  at  the 
baby  lying  on  a  pillow  in  a  chair  beside  her,  she  added, 
"  Really  she  seems  to  like  that  malted  stuff.  You'd 
better  bring  back  another  bottle  to-morrow.  There 
isn't  much  left  in  this  one." 

"  Isn't  that  my  dress  you  have  on  ?  "  Olga  asked 
suddenly. 

"  Yes,  I  had  to  have  something  fresh — mine  was  so 
mussed  and  dirty,"  Sonia  replied  lightly.  "  Lucky  for 
me  we're  about  the  same  size." 

"  But  not  lucky  for  me,"  was  Olga's  thought. 

For  a  week  things  went  on  so — Sonia  occasionally 
offering  to  wash  the  dishes,  but  leaving  her  sister  to 
do  everything  else.  Then  one  night  Olga  found  her 
best  suit  in  a  heap  on  the  closet  floor.  Picking  it  up 
she  spoke  sharply.  "  Sonia,  have  you  been  wearing 
this  suit  of  mine?  " 

"  Well,  what  if  I  have?  You  needn't  look  so  savage 
about  it!"  Sonia  retorted.  "I  have  to  have  some- 
thing decent  to  wear  on  the  street,  don't  I  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  have  nothing  decent  of  your  own," 
Olga  flashed  back.  "  Sonia,  you  have  no  right  to  wear 
my  things  so — without  asking!  " 

With  a  provoking  smile  Sonia  responded,  "  I  knew 


230  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

better  than  to  ask.  I  knew  you'd  make  a  fuss  about 
it.  If  you  don't  want  me  to  wear  your  clothes  why 
don't  you  give  me  money  to  buy  something  decent  for 
myself?     Then  I  wouldn't  need  to  borrow." 

Olga's  thoughts  were  in  such  an  angry  whirl  that 
for  a  moment  she  dared  not  trust  herself  to  speak. 
She  shook  out  the  suit  and  hung  it  up,  then  she  went 
slowly  across  the  room  and  sat  down  facing  her  sister. 

"  Sonia,"  she  began,  "  we  can't  go  on  in  this  way — 
I  cannot  endure  it.  Now  let  us  have  a  plain  under- 
standing. You  came  here  of  your  own  choice — not 
on  my  invitation.  What  are  your  plans?  Do  you 
mean  to  stay  on  here  indefinitely  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.    Where  else  should  I  stay?" 

"  Then,"  said  Olga  decidedly,  "  you  must  help  pay 
our  expenses.  You  are  well  and  strong.  Why  should 
you  expect  me  to  support  you?" 

"  Why  ?  Because  you  have  a  trade  and  I  have  not, 
for  one  reason.  And  besides,  there's  the  baby — I  can't 
leave  her  to  go  out  to  work."  There  was  a  note  of 
triumph  in  Sonia's  voice. 

"  You  could  get  work  to  do  at  home — sewing,  em- 
broidery, knitting — or  something." 

"  '  Or  something  ' !  "  There  was  fretful  impatience 
now  in  Sonia's  tone.  "  I  hate  sewing — any  kind  of 
sewing.     You  know  I  always  did." 

"  Then  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

Sonia  sat  looking  down  in  sulky  silence  at  the  baby. 

Olga  went  on,  "  If  there  is  no  work  you  can  do 
at  home,  you  must  find  something  outside.  You  can 
go  into  a  store  as  you  did  before  you  were  married." 

"  And  I  guess,"  Sonia  broke  out  angrily,  "  if  you'd 
ever  stood  behind  a  counter  from  eight  in  the  morning 


SONIA  231 

to  six  at  night,  you'd  know  how  nice  that  is!  You 
earn  enough.  I  think  it's  real  mean  and  stingy  of  you 
to  grudge  a  share  of  it  to  this  poor  sick  baby — and  me. 
I  do  so !  " 

"  I  don't  grudge  anything  to  the  baby,  Sonia,  though 
I  do  think  it  is  your  business  to  provide  for  her,  not 
mine.  But  I  say  again  it  is  not  right  for  me  to  have 
to  support  you,  and  I  am  not  willing  to  do  it.  It  is 
best  to  speak  plainly  once  for  all." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  you  were  speaking  plainly," 
Sonia  flung  out  with  an  unpleasant  smile.  She  rocked 
with  a  quick  motion,  her  brows  drawn  into  a 
frown.  "  How  can  I  go  into  a  store,  even  if  I  could 
get  a  place?  I  couldn't  take  the  baby  with  me,"  she 
muttered. 

"  I  could  bring  my  work  home — most  of  it — and  you 
could  leave  the  baby  with  me." 

"  Ah  ha !  I  knew  it.  I  knew  you  could  do  your 
work  here  if  you  wanted  to,"  Sonia  triumphed,  point- 
ing to  the  bench  in  the  corner.  "  You  just  don't  want 
to  stay  here  with  me."  Olga  made  no  denial  and  her 
sister  went  on  in  a  complaining  tone,  "  Anyhow  I'd  like 
to  know  how  I'm  going  to  get  a  place  anywhere  when 
I've  no  decent  clothes.  You  know  it  makes  all  the 
difference  how  one  is  dressed." 

"  That  is  true,"  Olga  admitted,  "  but,  Sonia,  I  cannot 
buy  you  a  suit.     I  haven't  the  money." 

"  You  could  borrow  it." 

Olga's  face  flushed.  "  I've  never  borrowed  a  cent 
in  my  life  or  bought  anything  on  credit,  except — 
mother's  coffin,"  she  said  passionately.  "  And  I  did 
night  work  till  I  paid  for  that.  I  cannot  run  in  debt. 
I  will  not !  " 


232  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

Sonia  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Well  then,  if  you 
want  me  to  get  a  place,  you'll  just  have  to  let  me 
wear  that  suit  of  yours  that  you  are  so  choice  of." 

Olga  was  silent.  It  was  true  that  Sonia's  chance 
of  securing  employment  would  be  small  if  she  sought 
it  in  the  shabby  clothes  which  she  had.  But  Olga 
needed  that  suit.  The  money  which  would  have 
bought  a  new  one  had  paid  her  doctor's  bill.  Still — 
the  important  thing  was  to  get  Sonia  to  work.  "  I 
suppose,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  shall  have  to  let  you 
wear  it,  but,  Sonia,  you  must  realise  how  it  is,  and  do 
your  best  to  find  a  place  soon.     Will  you  do  that?" 

"  Why,  of  course,"  returned  Sonia  with  the  light 
laugh  that  always  irritated  her  sister.  "  You  don't 
suppose  I  like  being  dependent  on  you,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  you'd  mind,  if  I  would  give  you 
money  whenever  you  want  it." 

Again  Sonia  laughed.  "  But  that's  not  imaginable, 
you  know,"  she  answered  airily.  "  It's  like  drawing 
eyeteeth  to  get  a  dollar  out  of  you.  You're  a  perfect 
miser,  Olga  Priest." 

Olga  let  that  pass.  "  I  had  intended  to  keep  my 
suit  in  Lizette's  closet  after  this,  but  I  will  leave  it 
here  if  you  will  promise  to  begin  to-morrow  to  look 
for  work.     Will  you  promise  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  are  the  limit !  "  Sonia  cried  impa- 
tiently. "  I  believe  you  grudge  me  every  mouthful  I 
eat,  and  the  baby  her  milk  too — poor  little  soul !  " 
She  caught  up  the  baby  and  kissed  it. 

"  Will  you  promise,  Sonia?  "  Olga  repeated. 

Sonia  dropped  the  baby  on  her  lap  again.  "  Of 
course  I  promise.  I  told  you  so  before.  Now  for 
pity's  sake  give  me  a  little  peace!  "  she  exclaimed. 


XVIII 
THE  TORCH  UPLIFTED 

SO  the  next  day  Olga  brought  home  her  work, 
and  Sonia,  wearing  not  only  her  sister's  best 
suit  but  her  hat,  shoes,  and  gloves  as  well,  set 
off  down  town.  She  departed  with  a  distinctly  holiday 
air,  tossing  from  the  doorway  a  kiss  to  the  baby  and 
a  good-bye  to  Olga.  But  Olga  cherished  small  hope 
of  her  success.  She  felt  no  confidence  in  her  sister's 
sincerity,  and  did  not  believe  that  she  really  wanted 
to  find  work. 

For  once  the  baby  was  awake — usually  she  seemed 
half  asleep,  lying  where  she  was  put,  and  only  stirring 
occasionally  with  weak  whimpering  cries.  But  this 
morning  the  blue  eyes  were  open,  and  Olga  stopped 
beside  the  chair  in  which  the  baby  was  lying  and 
looked  down  at  the  small  face,  so  pathetically  grave 
and  quiet. 

"  You  poor  little  mortal,"  she  said,  "  I  wonder  what 
life  holds  for  you — if  you  live.  I  almost  hope  you 
won't,  for  it  doesn't  seem  as  if  there's  much  chance 
for  you." 

The  solemn  blue  eyes  stared  up  at  her  as  if  the  baby 
too  were  wondering  what  chance  there  was  for  her. 
Olga  laid  her  face  for  a  moment  against  one  little 
white  cheek;  then  pulling  out  her  bench  she  set  to 
work. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Sonia  came  back.  "  O  dear !  " 
233 


234  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

she  exclaimed  with  a  swift  glance  around  the  room, 
"  I  hoped  you'd  have  dinner  ready,  Olga.  I'm  tired 
to  death." 

Without  a  word  Olga  put  aside  her  work  and  went 
to  the  gas  stove.  Sonia  pulled  off  her  shoes — Olga's 
shoes — and  took  off  Olga's  hat,  and  rocked  until  the 
meal  was  ready. 

"  What  luck  did  you  have  ?  "  Olga  inquired  when 
they  were  at  the  table. 

"  Not  a  bit.  I  tell  you,  Olga,  you're  a  mighty  lucky 
girl  to  have  that  work  to  do."  She  nodded  towards 
the  bench. 

Olga  ignored  that.  "Where  did  you  try?"  she 
asked. 

"  Well,  I  tried  at  Woodward  &  Lothrop's."  Sonia's 
tone  was  distinctly  sulky.  "  They  hadn't  any  vacancy 
— or  anyhow  they  said  so." 

"  They  always  have  a  long  waiting-list,  I  know. 
Did  you  leave  your  name  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't.  What  was  the  use  with  scores  ahead 
of  me?" 

"  And  where  else  did  you  try  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  try  Anywhere  else !  "  Sonia  said  with  a 
defiant  lift  of  her  chin.  "  You  needn't  think,  Olga, 
that  you  can  drive  me  like  a  slave  just  because  I  am 
staying  with  you.  I'm  going  to  take  my  time  about 
this  business,  and  don't  you  forget  it !  " 

Olga  waited  until  she  could  speak  quietly;  then  she 
said,  "  Sonia,  there  is  one  thing  you've  got  to  under- 
stand. I  must  have  peace.  I  cannot  do  my  work 
if  there  is  to  be  discord  and  friction  all  the  time  be- 
tween you  and  me." 


THE  TORCH  UPLIFTED  235 

"  It's  your  own  fault,"  Sonia  retorted.  "  I'm  peace- 
ful enough  if  I'm  let  alone.     I  let  you  alone." 

"  But,  Sonia,  don't  you  see  that  we  can't  go  on 
this  way  ? "  Olga  pleaded.  "  Don't  you  feel  that  you 
ought  to  pay  half  our  expenses  if  you  stay  with  me?" 

"No,  I  don't.  Why  should  I  pay  half?"  Sonia 
demanded.  "  Your  rent  is  no  higher  because  I  am 
here." 

"  No,  but  I  have  to  sleep  on  the  floor,  and  it  is  not 
very  restful  as  you  would  find  if  you  tried  it  once." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  buy  a  cot  then  ?  You  could 
get  one  for  two  dollars." 

"  I  need  the  two  dollars  for  other  things,"  Olga 
answered  wearily.  "  Do  you  mean,  Sonia,  that  you 
are  not  going  to  look  for  a  place  anywhere  else  ?  " 

"  O,  I'll  look — but  I  won't  be  hurried  about  it," 
Sonia  declared  moodily. 

"  Well,"  Olga  spoke  with  deliberation,  "  if  that  is 
your  attitude,  there  is  but  one  thing  for  me  to  do,  and 
that  is  to  go  away  from  here." 

"  Olga  !  You  couldn't  be  that  mean !  "  Sonia  sat 
up  straight  and  stared  with  startled  eyes  at  the  grave 
face  opposite  her. 

"  Think,  Sonia,"  said  Olga  in  a  low  voice,  though 
her  heart  was  beating  furiously,  "  how  it  would  seem 
to  you  if  I  should  refuse  to  work  and  expect  you  to 
support  me." 

"  That's  different,"  Sonia  muttered  sullenly. 

"  How  is  it  different?" 

"  Because  you've  got  your  work — I  haven't  any." 

"  But  you  might  have  if  you  would." 

"  Much  you  know  about  it !  Did  you  ever  try  to 
find  a  place  in  a  store?" 


236  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  When  I  was  thirteen  and  you  left  mother  and 
me  " — Olga's  voice  was  very  low  now,  but  it  thrilled 
with  bitter  memories — "  I  walked  the  streets  for  three 
long  days  hunting  for  work,  and  I  found  it  at  last  in 
a  laundry  where  I  stood  from  seven  in  the  morning 
till  six  at  night,  with  only  fifteen  minutes  at  noon. 
And  I  stayed  there  while  mother  lived,  going  back  to 
her  to  care  for  her  through  those  long  dreadful  nights 
of  misery.  That  is  what  I  know  about  hard  work, 
Sonia !  " 

It  was  Sonia's  turn  now  to  be  silent.  There  was 
something  in  Olga's  white  face  and  blazing  eyes  that 
stilled  even  her  flippant  tongue.  For  a  moment  her 
thoughts  drifted  back,  and  perhaps  for  the  first  time 
she  fully  realised  what  her  going  then  had  meant  to 
the  little  sister  upon  whose  shoulders  she  had  left  the 
heavy  burden.  But  she  banished  these  unpleasant 
memories  with  a  shrug.  "  O  well,  all  that's  past  and 
gone — no  use  in  raking  it  up  again,"  she  declared. 

"  No,  no  use,"  Olga  admitted.  "  But,  Sonia,  I  want 
you  to  realise  that  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  You  have 
come  here  of  your  own  accord.  If  you  stay  you  must 
share  our  expenses.  If  you  will  not,  I  surely  shall  go 
away,  and  leave  you  to  pay  all  yourself." 

Seeing  that  her  sister  was  determined,  Sonia  sud- 
denly melted  into  weak  tears.  "  You  are  so  hard, 
Olga !  "  she  sobbed.  "  I  don't  believe  you  have  any 
heart  at  all." 

"  Maybe  not,"  was  the  grim  response.  "  I've 
thought  sometimes  it  was  broken — or  frozen — five 
years  ago." 

"  You  keep  harking  back  to  that !  "  Sonia  moaned. 
"  I'm  not  the  first  girl  that  has  gone  away  with  the 


THE  TORCH  UPLIFTED  237 

man  she  loved.  You  have  no  sympathy — you  make 
no  allowances.  And  I  didn't  realise  how  sick  mother 
was.     If  I  had " 

"  If  you  had,"  Olga  interrupted,  "  you  would  have 
done  exactly  the  same.  But  let  that  pass.  Are  you 
going  to  give  me  the  promise  that  I  ask  ? " 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  promise?  "  Sonia  evaded. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  that  you  will  go  out  every 
week  day  and  look  for  work — that  you  will  keep  trying 
until  you  do  find  it.     Will  you  ?  " 

"  It  seems  I  can't  help  myself."  Sonia's  voice  was 
still  sulky. 

"  Will  you  ?  I  must  have  your  promise,"  Olga  in- 
sisted, and  finally  Sonia  flung  out  an  angry, 

"  Yes !  " 

Thereafter  Olga  worked  at  home  and  her  sister 
went  out  morning  or  afternoon — sometimes  both;  but 
she  found  no  position. 

"  They  all  want  younger  girls — chits  of  sixteen  or 
seventeen,"  she  complained,  "  or  else  those  who  have 
had  large  experience.     They  won't  give  me  a  chance." 

Olga  crowded  down  her  doubts.  Perhaps  it  was 
all  true — perhaps  Sonia  really  had  honestly  tried,  but 
the  doubts  would  return,  for  she  felt  that  her  sister 
was  quite  content  to  let  things  remain  as  they  were 
as  long  as  Olga  made  no  further  protest.  But  others 
were  not  content  with  things  as  they  were.  Elizabeth 
was  not,  nor  Lizette.  Laura  met  Lizette  on  the  street 
one  day  and  learned  all  that  the  girl  could  tell  her 
of  Olga's  trouble. 

"  She's  so  changed !  "  Lizette  said,  her  eyes  filling. 
"  When  we  came  home  she  was  so  happy,  and  so  full 
of  plans  for  Camp  Fire  work,  and  now — now  she  takes 


238  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

no  interest  in  it  at  all.     She  won't  talk  about  it,  or 
hardly  listen  when  I  talk." 

"  I  must  see  her,"  Laura  said.  "  I'll  take  you  home 
now,"  and  when  they  reached  the  house,  Lizette  ran 
eagerly  up  the  stairs  to  give  Miss  Laura's  message. 

"  I've  come  to  invite  you  to  another  tea  party — with 
Jim  and  me,"  Laura  said  when  Olga  appeared.  "  You 
will  come — to-morrow  night?  " 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  can't,"  the  girl  answered  gravely. 

"  Why  can't  you,  Olga  ?  I  want  you  very  much," 
Laura  urged. 

"  My  sister  is  with  me  now.     I  cannot  leave  her." 

"  But  just  this  once — please,  Olga." 

Laura's  eyes — warm,  loving,  compelling — looked 
into  Olga's,  dark,  sombre,  and  miserable ;  and  suddenly 
with  a  little  gasping  sob  the  girl  yielded  because  she 
knew  if  she  stood  there  another  minute  she  would 
break  down. 

"  I'll — come,"  she  promised,  and  without  another 
word  turned  and  hurried  back  into  the  house. 

Laura  was  half  afraid  that  she  would  not  keep  her 
promise,  but  at  six  o'clock  she  appeared.  Jim  fell 
upon  her  with  a  gleeful  welcome,  and  she  tried  to 
answer  gaily,  but  the  effort  with  which  she  did  it  was 
evident,  and  earlier  than  usual  Laura  took  the  boy 
off  to  bed. 

"  Something  is  troubling  Olga,"  she  whispered  as 
she  tucked  him  in,  "  and  I'm  going  to  try  to  find  a 
way  to  help  her." 

"  You  will,"  he  said  confidently.  "  You're  the  best 
ever  for  helping  folks,"  and  he  pulled  her  face  down 
to  give  one  of  his  rare  kisses. 

Laura,  going  back  to  the  other  room,  drew  the  girl 


THE  TORCH  UPLIFTED  239 

down  beside  her.  "  Now,  child,"  she  said,  her  voice 
full  of  tenderest  persuasion,  "  let  us  talk  over  your 
problems  and  find  the  way  out." 

For  a  moment  the  old  proud  reserve  held  the  girl, 
but  it  melted  under  the  tender  sympathy  in  the  eyes 
looking  into  hers.  She  drew  a  long  breath.  "  It 
seems  somehow  wrong  to  talk  about  it  even  to  you," 
she  said.     "  Sonia  is  my  sister." 

"  I  know,  dear,  but  sisters  are  not  always — sisters," 
Laura  replied,  "  and  you  are  very  much  alone  in  the 
world.  I  am  more  truly  your  sister — am  I  not,  Olga 
— your  elder  sister  who  loves  you  and  wants  to  help  ?  " 

"  O  yes,  yes !  "  the  girl  cried.  "  But  I've  felt  I 
must  not  tell  any  one — even  you — and  I've  crowded  it 
all  down  in  my  heart  until " 

"  Until  you  are  worn  out  with  the  strain  of  it  all," 
Laura  said  as  Olga  paused.  "  Now  tell  me  the  whole 
just  as  if  I  were  your  sister  in  very  fact." 

And  Olga  told  it  all,  from  Sonia's  unexpected  arrival 
that  September  night  to  the  present — of  the  failure  of 
her  efforts  to  get  her  sister  to  do  some  kind  of  work, 
and  of  Sonia's  constant  demands  for  money  and 
clothes." 

"  Do  you  think  she  has  really  tried  to  get  a  place 
in  a  store,  Olga?" 

"  I  don't  know.  She  says  she  has,  but  I  can't  feel 
that  she  really  wants  to  do  anything,  or  that  she  will 
ever  find  a  place  as  long  as  I  let  her  stay  on  with  me. 
Of  course  I  could  support  her,  though  it  would  not 
be  easy,  for  she  is  hard  on  clothes.  She  doesn't  take 
care  of  them  and  she  wears  them  out  much  faster  than 
I  do.  She  has  almost  worn  out  my  best  shoes  already, 
and  my  gloves,  as  well  as  my  hat  and  suit,  and  she 


£40  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

uses  my  handkerchiefs  and — and  everything,  just  as  if 
they  were  her  own.  I  can't  earn  enough  to  clothe  her 
and  keep  myself  decent."  She  glanced  down  at  the 
old  serge  skirt  she  wore.  "  Miss  Laura,  tell  me — what 
shall  I  do?  Would  it  be  right  for  me  to  leave  her? 
The  continual  fret  and  worry  of  it  all  are  wearing 
me  out." 

"  I  know  it,  dear — that  is  why  I  felt  you  must  come 
and  talk  it  all  over  with  me." 

Olga  went  on,  "  It  isn't  only  a  matter  of  money — 
and  clothes,  but  I  have  nothing  left.  If  I  go  out  even- 
ings— even  across  to  Lizette's  room — she  wants  to  go 
too,  or  else  she  goes  off  somewhere  as  soon  as  I  am 
out  of  sight,  and  leaves  the  baby  shut  up  all  alone. 
That's  why  I  can't  go  anywhere — not  even  to  the 
Camp  Fire  meetings.  And,  O  Miss  Laura,  I  was  so 
happy  when  I  came  back  from  camp — I  had  so  many 
lovely  plans  for  Camp  Fire  work !  I  did  mean  to  be 
a  good  Torch  Bearer — I  did!" 

"  I  know  you  did." 

"  And  now  it's  all  spoilt.  I  can't  do  a  single  bit  of 
Camp  Fire  work,"  she  ended  sadly. 

"  Olga,"  Laura's  arm  was  around  the  girl's  shoul- 
ders, her  voice  very  low  and  tender,  "  you  say  that 
now  you  cannot  do  a  single  bit  of  Camp  Fire  work?  " 

Olga  looked  up  in  surprise.  "  How  can  I — when  I 
can't  be  with  the  girls  at  all,  nor  attend  the  meet- 
ings? " 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  think  is  the  best  Camp  Fire 
service  the  girls  have  done?  It  is  the  work  in  their 
own  homes.  Mrs.  Bicknell  says  that  Eva  is  getting 
to  be  a  real  comfort  to  her.  She  helps  with  the  house- 
work and  the  younger  children  as  she  never  used  to  do, 


THE  TORCH  UPLIFTED  241 

and  her  influence  is  making  the  younger  ones  so  much 
easier  to  manage." 

"  But,  Miss  Laura,  I  don't  see  how  that  is  Camp 
Fire  work,"  Olga  said. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  Very  softly  Laura  repeated,  "  '  Love 
is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is  forgotten.' 
And  isn't  the  home  the  place  above  all  others  where 
Camp  Fire  Girls  should  render  service?" 

"  I — never — thought  of  it — that  way,"  Olga  said 
very  slowly. 

"  But  isn't  it  so?  "  Laura  persisted.     "  Think  now." 

"Yes — of  course  it  is  so.  Miss  Laura,  it  will — it 
will  make  it  easier  to  think  of  it  as  Camp  Fire  service, 
for  I  did  so  hate  to  be  out  of  it  all — all  the  Camp  Fire 
work,  I  mean.  I'll  try  to  think  of  it  that  way  after 
this.  And — and  I  guess  there  isn't  any  way  out.  I 
suppose  I  ought  not  to  long  so  for  a  way  out,  if  I  am 
going  to  be  a  faithful  Torch  Bearer."  She  made  a 
brave  attempt  to  smile. 

"  There  is  a  way  out — I  am  sure  of  it,  but  we  may 
not  find  it  just  at  once.  Meantime  you  have  a  great 
opportunity,  Olga.  Don't  you  see?  It  is  easy  to  be 
happy  as  you  were  in  August  at  the  camp,  when  you 
were  growing  stronger  every  day,  and  had  just  begun 
to  realise  what  Camp  Fire  might  mean  to  you  in  your 
service  for  and  with  the  girls,  and  their  love  for  you. 
Once  you  had  opened  your  heart,  you  could  not  help 
being  happy.  But  now  it  is  different.  Now  you  must 
be  happy  not  because  of,  but  in  spite  of,  circumstances. 
And  so  if  you  keep  the  law  of  the  Camp  Fire  to  give 
service — a  service  that  it  is  very  hard  for  you  to  give 
— and  to  be  happy  in  spite  of  the  trying  things  in  your 
life — don't  you  see  how  much  more  your  happiness  will 


24&  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

mean — how  much  deeper  and  stronger  and  finer  it  will 
be?" 

"  Yes,  I  see." 

"  And  the  girls  will  see  too,  Olga.  You  know  how 
quick  they  are.  You  could  not  deceive  them  if  you 
tried — Lena,  Sadie,  Louise  Johnson — they  will  all  be 
watching  you — weighing  you;  and  if  they  see  that,  in 
spite  of  the  hard  things,  you  are  really  and  truly  happy 
— that  you  have  really  found  the  'joy  in  service  so 
deep  that  self  is  forgotten ' — don't  you  see  how  much 
stronger  your  influence  over  them  will  be — how  im- 
mensely stronger  ?  " 

Slowly,  thoughtfully,  Olga  nodded,  her  eyes  on  the 
glowing  embers  in  the  fireplace. 

"  So  all  these  things  that  are  making  your  life  now 
so  hard,  are  your  great  opportunity,  dear,"  the  low 
voice  went  on.  "  If  in  spite  of  all,  you  can  hold  high 
the  torch  of  love  and  happiness,  every  girl  in  our  Camp 
Fire  will  gladly  follow  her  Torch  Bearer." 

Olga  looked  up,  and  now  her  eyes  were  shining. 
"  You  are  the  real  Torch  Bearer,  Miss  Laura !  "  she 
cried.  "  You  have  shown  me  the  light  to-night  when 
I  didn't  think  there  was  any." 

"  I've  shown  you  how  to  keep  your  torch  burning — 
that  is  all.  Now  you  must  hold  it  high  to  light  the 
way  for  others ;  for  you  know,  dear,  there  are  others  in 
our  Camp  Fire  who  are  stumbling  in  dark  and  stony 
pathways,  and  we — you  and  I — must  help  them  too,  to 
find  the  lighted  way." 

"  O,  I'll  try,  Miss  Laura,  I  will,"  Olga  promised, 
and  in  her  voice  now  there  was  determination  as  well 
as  humility. 


XIX 
CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  DARKNESS 

SONIA  was  an  adept  in  thinking  up  remarks  that 
carried  a  taunt  or  a  sting,  and  she  had  one  ready- 
to  greet  her  sister  that  night  on  her  return ;  but 
as  she  looked  up,  she  saw  in  Olga's  face  something 
that  held  back  the  provoking  words  trembling  on 
her  tongue.  Instead  she  said,  half  enviously,  "  You 
look  as  if  you'd  had  a  fine  time.  What  you  been 
doing?  " 

"  Nothing  but  having  a  firelight  talk  with  Miss 
Laura.    That  always  does  me  good." 

"  Hm !  "  returned  Sonia.  She  wondered  what  kind 
of  a  talk  it  could  have  been  to  drive  away  the  sullen 
gloom  that  had  darkened  her  sister's  face  for  days, 
and  bring  that  strange  shining  look  into  her  eyes. 
Sonia  shrugged  her  shoulders.  At  least,  Olga 
wouldn't  hound  her  about  finding  work — not  while  she 
had  that  look  in  her  eyes— and,  with  a  mind  at  ease, 
Sonia  went  off  to  bed. 

She  went  out  the  next  morning,  but  came  back  in 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon  in  a  gay  mood.  "  I  didn't 
find  any  place,"  she  announced,  "  but  I  had  a  good 
dinner  for  once.     I  met — an  old  friend." 

Something  in  her  voice  and  her  heightened  colour 
awakened  an  indefinite  suspicion  in  Olga's  mind. 
"  Who  was  it?     Any  one  I  know?  "  she  asked. 

Sonia  made  no  reply.  She  had  gone  into  the  bed- 
243 


244?  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

room  to  put  away  her  hat  and  jacket.  When  she  came 
back  she  spoke  of  something  else,  but  all  that  evening 
there  was  a  curious  air  of  repressed  excitement  about 
her. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot — the  postman  gave  me  a  letter  for 
you.  It's  in  my  bag,"  she  exclaimed  later,  and  bring- 
ing it  from  the  other  room,  tossed  it  carelessly  into 
her  sister's  lap. 

Olga  read  it  and  handed  it  back.  "  It  concerns  you. 
O,  I  do  hope  you'll  get  the  place,"  she  said. 

The  note  was  from  Miss  Laura  to  say  that  the 
manager  of  one  of  the  large  department  stores  had 
promised  to  employ  Sonia  if  she  applied  at  once. 

"  Isn't  that  fine !  "  Olga  cried. 

"  O — perhaps,"  Sonia  returned  with  a  chilling  lack 
of  enthusiasm. 

"  O  Sonia,  don't  act  so  about  it,"  Olga  pleaded. 
"  You  know  you  must  get  something  to  do.  You  will 
go  to-morrow  and  see  the  manager,  won't  you — after 
Miss  Laura  has  taken  so  much  trouble  for  you  ?  " 

"For  me!"  There  was  a  sneer  in  Soma's  voice. 
"  Much  she  cares  for  me.  She  did  it  for  you — you 
know  she  did.     You  needn't  pretend  anything  else." 

"  I  don't  pretend — anything,"  Olga  said,  the  bright- 
ness dying  out  of  her  face. 

In  the  morning  she  watched  her  sister  with  intense 
anxiety,  but  she  dared  not  urge  her  further,  and  Sonia 
seemed  possessed  by  some  imp  of  perversity  to  do 
everything  in  her  power  to  prolong  Olga's  suspense. 
She  stayed  in  bed  till  the  last  minute,  dawdled  over  her 
breakfast,  insisted  upon  giving  the  baby  her  bath — a 
task  which  she  usually  left  to  her  sister — and  when 
at  last  she  was  ready  to  go  out  it  was  nearly  noon. 


CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  DARKNESS     £45 

"  You'll  have  to  give  me  money  to  get  something 
to  eat  down  town,  Olga,"  she  said  th«n.  "  It  will  be 
noon  by  the  time  I  get  to  that  store,  and  I  can't  talk 
business  on  an  empty  stomach.  I'd  be  sure  to 
make  a  bad  impression  if  I  did.  Half  a  dollar  will 
do." 

With  a  sigh  Olga  handed  her  the  money.  Sonia 
took  it  with  a  mocking  little  laugh,  and  was  gone  at 
last. 

"  O,  I  wonder — I  wonder  if  she  will  really  try  to 
get  the  place,"  Olga  said  to  herself  as  the  door  closed. 
She  set  to  work  then,  but  her  restless  anxiety  affected 
her  nerves  and  the  work  did  not  go  well.  The  baby 
too  fretted  and  required  more  attention  than  usual. 
As  the  day  wore  on  Olga  began  to  worry  about  the 
baby — her  small  face  was  so  pinched,  and  the  blue 
shadows  under  her  eyes  were  more  noticeable  than 
usual ;  so  it  was  with  an  exclamation  of  relief  that, 
opening  the  door  in  response  to  a  knock  in  the  late 
afternoon,  she  saw  the  nurse  who  had  taken  care  of 
her  in  the  summer. 

"  O,  I'm  so  glad  it's  you,  Miss  Kennan !  "  she  cried. 
"  Do  come  in  and  tell  me  what  ails  this  baby." 

"A  baby!  Whose  is  it?"  the  nurse  asked;  but  as 
she  looked  at  the  child,  she  forgot  her  question.  "  The 
poor  little  soul !  "  she  exclaimed.  Then  with  a  quick 
sharp  glance  at  the  girl,  "  What  have  you  been  giving 
it?" 

"  Giving  it?  "  Olga  echoed.  "  Why,  nothing  except 
her  food." 

"  What  kind  of  food— milk  ?  " 

"  Milk,  and  this."  Olga  brought  a  bottle  of  the 
malted  food. 


246  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  That's  all  right.  Let  me  see  some  of  the  milk," 
the  nurse  ordered. 

She  looked  at  the  milk,  smelt  it,  tasted  it.  "  That 
seems  all  right  too,"  she  declared.  "  And  you've  put 
nothing — no  medicine  of  any  sort — in  her  food  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  not." 

"  Do  you  prepare  her  food  always  ?  " 

"  Not  always.  Her  mother — my  sister — fixes  it 
some  times." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  nurse. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Kennan  ?  What  is  the 
matter  with  the  baby  ?  " 

"  She's  been  doped,"  answered  the  nurse  shortly. 
"  Soothing  syrup  or  something  probably,  to  keep  her 
quiet.     Sleeps  a  lot,  doesn't  she?" 

"  Yes.  She  never  seems  really  awake.  O  Miss 
Kennan,  I  never  knew " 

"  I  see.  Well,  you'll  have  to  know  now.  Find  out 
what  has  been  given  her,  and  fix  all  her  food  after 
this,  yourself.     Can  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I'll  try  to." 

"  If  you  don't,  she  won't  need  food  much  longer," 
said  the  nurse. 

"  O,  how  can  any  one  be  so  wicked !  "  cried  Olga. 

"  It  isn't  wickedness — it's  ignorance  mostly — laziness 
sometimes,  when  a  mother  doesn't  want  to  be  troubled 
with  the  care  of  a  baby.  Probably  this  one  had  an 
overdose  this  morning." 

Olga  stood  silently  thinking.  Yes,  Sonia  had  given 
the  baby  her  bottle  that  morning,  and  always  gave 
it  to  her  at  night.  She  went  into  the  bedroom  and 
searched  the  closet  and  the  bed.  Sonia  usually  made 
the  bed.     Under  the  pillow  Olga  found  a  bottle  which 


CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  DARKNESS     247 

she  handed  without  a  word,  to  the  nurse.     Miss  Ken- 
nan  nodded. 

"  That's  it,"  she  said  briefly. 

Opening  the  window  Olga  flung  the  bottle  passion- 
ately into  the  street. 

"  Can't  you  do  anything  to — to  counteract  it  ?  "  she 
questioned,  her  face  as  white  as  the  child's. 

"  I'll  bring  you  something,"  the  nurse  said,  "  and 
now  you  must  stop  worrying.  You  can't  take  proper 
care  of  this  baby  if  you  are  in  a  white  heat — she'll  feel 
the  mental  atmosphere.  I  wish  I  could  take  her  home 
with  me  to-night." 

"  You  can.  I  wish  you  would.  I'd  feel  safer  about 
her,"  said  Olga. 

"And  her  mother?"  the  nurse  questioned  with  a 
searching  look. 

"  I  won't  tell  her  where  you  live.  You  can  bring 
the  baby  back  in  the  morning  if  she's  better — if  not, 
keep  her  till  she  is.     I'll  pay  you — when  I  can." 

"  This  isn't  a  pay-case,"  the  nurse  said  in  her  crisp 
way,  "  it's  a  case  of  life-saving.  Then  I'll  take  her 
away  now,  before — anybody — comes  to  interfere." 

An  hour  later  Sonia  came  home.  In  her  absorption 
over  the  baby,  Olga  had  quite  forgotten  about  Laura's 
note,  and  she  asked  no  questions.    That  puzzled  Sonia. 

"  What's  happened  ? "  she  demanded  abruptly. 
"  You  look  as  if  you'd  seen  a  ghost." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had,"  Olga  answered  gravely. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Olga  ?  " 

"  The  baby  is  sick." 

"The  baby?"  Sonia  cast  a  swift  glance  about, 
then  hurried  to  the  bedroom.  "  Where  is  she?  What 
have  you  done  with  her  ? "  she  cried. 


248  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  Sonia,  a  nurse  came  here  this  afternoon,  and  she 
said  some  one  had  been  poisoning  the  baby  with  sooth- 
.  ing  syrup." 

"  Poisoning  her !  "  Sonia  echoed  under  her  breath. 

"  She  had  had  an  overdose,"  said  Olga.  "  O 
Sonia,  how  could  you  give  her  that  dangerous 
stuff?" 

"  How'd  I  know  it  was  dangerous  ?  An  old  nurse 
told  me  it  was  harmless,"  Sonia  defended  herself,  but 
the  colour  had  faded  out  of  her  face  and  her  eyes  were 
full  of  terror. 

Olga  told  her  what  the  nurse  had  said.  "  I  asked 
her  to  take  the  baby  home  with  her  to-night.  I  knew 
that  she  would  take  better  care  of  her  than  we  could," 
she  ended. 

Sonia  was  too  frightened  to  object.  "  I  didn't  know. 
Of  course  I  wouldn't  have  given  her  the  stuff  if  I 
had  known,"  she  said  again  and  again,  and  finally  to 
turn  her  thoughts  to  something  else,  Olga  asked  about 
the  place. 

"  Yes,  they  took  me.  I  am  to  begin  Monday," 
Sonia  answered  briefly. 

Neither  of  them  slept  much  that  night,  and  imme- 
diately after  breakfast  Olga  hurried  over  to  Miss 
Kennan's.     The  nurse  met  her  with  a  smile. 

"  She's  better — she'll  pull  through — and  she's  a  dar- 
ling of  a  baby,  Olga,"  she  said.  "  But  you'll  have  to 
watch  her  closely  for  a  while.  That  deadly  stuff  has 
weakened  her  so !  " 

"  O,  I  will,  I  will !  "  Olga  promised.  A  great  love 
for  the  little  creature  filled  her  heart,  as  she  stooped 
to  kiss  her. 

For  a  month  after  this,  things  went  better.     Sonia 


CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  DARKNESS     249 

was  at  the  store  from  eight  to  six,  and  Olga  in  her 
quiet  rooms,  worked  steadily  except  when  the  baby 
claimed  her  attention.  The  baby  wanted  more  and 
more  attention  as  the  days  went  by.  She  no  longer 
lay  limp  and  half  unconscious,  but  awoke  from  sleep, 
laughing  and  crowing,  to  stretch  and  roll  and  kick  like 
any  healthy  baby.  She  took  many  precious  moments 
of  Olga's  time,  but  Olga  did  not  grudge  them.  In 
that  one  day  of  fear  and  dread,  the  baby  had  estab- 
lished herself  once  for  all  in  the  girl's  heart.  If  things 
could  only  go  on  as  they  were — if  Sonia  would  earn 
her  own  clothes  even,  and  be  content  to  stay  on  and 
leave  the  baby  to  her  care,  Olga  felt  that  she  could 
be  quite  happy.  But  she  had  her  misgivings  in  regard 
to  Sonia.  There  was  about  her  at  times  an  air  of 
mystery  and  of  suppressed  excitement  that  puzzled 
her  sister.  She  spent  many  evenings  out — with 
friends,  she  said,  but  she  never  told  who  the  friends 
were.  Still  Olga  was  happy.  Her  work,  her  baby 
(she  thought  of  it  always  now  as  hers),  and  the  Camp 
Fire  friends — these  filled  her  days,  and  she  put  aside 
resolutely  her  misgivings  in  regard  to  her  sister, 
worked  doubly  hard  to  pay  the  extra  bills,  and  en- 
dured without  complaint  the  discomfort  of  her  crowded 
rooms  where  Sonia  claimed  and  kept  the  most  and 
best  of  everything.  There  was  a  cheery  old  lady  in 
the  room  below — an  old  lady  who  dearly  loved  to  get 
hold  of  a  baby,  and  with  her  Olga  left  her  little  niece 
on  Camp  Fire  nights,  and  when  she  went  to  market 
or  to  the  school.  The  girls  began  to  drop  in  again 
evenings,  now  that  Sonia  was  so  seldom  there,  and 
Olga  welcomed  them  with  shining  eyes.  The  baby 
soon  had  all  the  girls  at"  her  feet.     They  called  her 


250  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

"  The  Camp  Fire  Baby  "  and  would  have  adopted  her 
forthwith,  but  Olga  would  not  agree  to  that. 

"  You  can  play  with  her  and  love  her  as  much  as 
you  like,  but  she's  my  very  own,"  she  told  them. 

But  with  her  delight  in  the  child  was  always  mingled 
a  haunting  fear  that  Sonia  would  some  day  snatch  her 
up  and  disappear  with  her  as  suddenly  as  she  had 
come. 

It  was  in  December  that  the  blow  fell.  Sonia  had 
not  come  back  to  supper,  and  Olga  left  the  baby  with 
old  Mrs.  Morris,  and  set  off  with  Lizette  for  the  Camp 
Fire  meeting.  It  was  a  delightful  meeting,  and  Olga 
enjoyed  every  minute  of  it,  and  the  walk  home  with 
Elizabeth  afterwards,  while  Sadie  followed  with 
Lizette. 

"  Come  down  soon  and  see  my  baby — and  me,"  she 
said,  as  Elizabeth  and  Sadie  turned  off  at  their  own 
corner,  and  she  went  on  with  Lizette. 

Before  she  could  knock  at  Mrs.  Morris's  door,  it 
was  opened  by  the  old  lady.     "  I've  been  watching  for 

you "  she  began,  and  instantly  Olga  read  the  truth 

in  her  troubled  face. 

"  My — baby "  she  gasped. 

"  She's  gone,  dearie — her  mother  took  her  away," 
the  old  lady  said,  her  arms  about  the  girl.  "  I  tried 
to  make  her  wait  till  you  came,  but  she  wouldn't." 

"  Gone — for  good,  you  mean?  "  It  was  Lizette  who 
questioned. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Morris,  "  she  said  so.  She 
said  you'd  find  a  note  upstairs.  Here's  your  key. 
I'm  so  sorry  for  you,  child — O,  so  sorry !  " 

Olga  made  no  reply — she  could  not  find  words  then. 
She    went    slowly    up    the    stairs,    Lizette    following. 


CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  DARKNESS     251 

Lighting  the  gas,  she  flashed  a  swift  glance  about 
the  room.  The  note  lay  on  her  workbench.  She 
snatched  it  up  and  read: 

"I'm  going  with  Dick  —  he  came  back  a  month  ago.  He 
says  he's  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  and  he's  got  a  job  in  New 
York.  I've  always  wanted  to  live  in  New  York.  Good-bye, 
Olga — be  good  to  yourself.     Baby  sends  bye-bye  to  auntie. 

"Sonia." 

She  handed  the  note  to  Lizette,  who  read  it  with 

a   scowl.     "  Well,   of  all  the "   she  began,  but  a 

glance  from  Olga  stopped  her.  "  Isn't  there  a»3'thing 
I  can  do  ?  "  she  begged,  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you.  I'll — I'll  brace  up  as — as 
soon  as  I  can,  Lizette.  Good-night,"  Olga  said  gently, 
and  Lizette  went  away,  her  honest  heart  aching  with 
sympathy  for  her  friend,  and  Olga  was  alone  in  the 
place  that  seemed  so  appallingly  empty  because  a  little 
child  had  gone  out  of  it. 

But  the  next  morning  when  Lizette  came  in  Olga 
met  her  with  a  smile. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  she  said.  "  I  miss  my  baby  every 
minute,  but,  Lizette,  I  mean  to  be  happy  in  spite  of 
it,  and  I  know  you'll  help  me.  Breakfast  is  ready — 
you  won't  leave  me  to  eat  it  alone?  "  Her  brave  smile 
brought  a  lump  into  Lizette's  throat. 

So  they  dropped  back  into  their  old  pleasant  com- 
panionship, and  the  girls  came  more  often  than  before 
evenings,  and  Olga  threw  herself  whole-heartedly  into 
Camp  Fire  work,  seeking  opportunities  for  service. 
And  the  days  slipped  away  and  it  was  Christmas  Eve 
again.  Olga  had  spent  the  evening  in  the  Camp  Fire 
room  helping  to  put  up  greens  and  trim  the  tree.     She 


252  THE  TORCH  BEARER 

had  a  smile  and  a  helping  hand  for  every  one,  and 
Laura,  watching  her,  said  to  herself,  "  She  is  holding 
her  torch  high — the  dear  child." 

But  it  had  not  been  easy — holding  the  torch  high. 
On  the  way  home  the  reaction  came,  and  Olga  was 
silent.  In  the  merry  crowd,  however,  only  Elizabeth 
and  Lizette  noticed  her  silence,  for  Laura  had  sent 
them  all  home  in  the  car,  and  the  swift  flight  through 
the  snowy  streets  was  exciting  and  exhilarating.  The 
others  called  gay  greetings  and  farewells  as  they  rolled 
away,  leaving  Olga  and  Lizette  on  the  steps  in  the 
moonlight. 

At  Lizette's  door  Olga  said  good-night  and  went 
across  to  her  own  room.  Closing  the  door  behind  her 
she  dropped  into  a  chair  by  the  window,  and  suddenly 
she  realised  that  she  was  very  tired  and  O,  so  lonely! 
She  longed  for  the  pressure  of  a  little  head  on  her  arm 
— for  tiny  fingers  curling  about  hers — she  wanted  her 
baby. 

"  O,  why  couldn't  I  keep  her  ?  Sonia  doesn't  care 
for  her — she  doesn't !  And  I  do.  I  want  my  baby !  " 
she  cried  into  the  night. 

But  again  after  a  little  she  caught  back  her  courage. 
"  I'm  ashamed — ashamed !  "  she  said  aloud.  "  I'm  not 
playing  fair.  I've  got  to  be  happy  if  I  can't  have  my 
baby,  and  I  will.  But,  O,  if  I  were  only  sure  that 
she  is  cared  for !  " 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  low  rap  on  her  door. 
Going  to  it,  she  called,  "  Who  is  it?  Who  is  there?  " 
but  she  did  not  open  the  door. 

There  was  no  reply,  only  the  sound  of  soft  retreat- 
ing footsteps. 

"  Somebody  going  by,"  she  said,  turning  away,  but  as 


CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  DARKNESS     253 

she  did  so  she  thought  she  heard  a  little  whimpering 
cry  outside.  Instantly  she  flung  the  door  open,  and 
there  in  a  basket  lay  her  baby. 

"  It — it  can't  be !  "  Olga  cried  out,  incredulous. 
Then  she  caught  up  the  baby  and  hugged  her  till  the 
little  thing  whimpered  again,  half  afraid.  "  O,  it  is — 
it  is!"  Olga  cried.  ''You  blessed  darling — if  I  could 
only  keep  you  forever!  "  Still  holding  the  child  close, 
she  snatched  up  the  basket,  shut  the  door,  and  lit  the 
gas.     In  the  basket  she  found  a  note  from  her  sister. 

"I'm  sending  back  the  baby  [it  read];  I  only  took  her 
to  scare  you — just  to  pay  you  off  for  nagging  me  so  about 
work.  You  can  have  her  now  for  keeps.  Dick  doesn't  care 
for  children  and  they  are  an  awful  bother,  and  you've  spoiled 
this  one  anyhow,  fussing  so  over  her.  I  reckon  you  and 
I  aren't  exactly  congenial,  and  I  shan't  trouble  you  any  more 
unless  Dick  goes  back  on  me  again,  and  I  don't  think  he 
will. 

"Sonia." 

Through  the  still  night  air  came  the  sound  of  bells — 
Christmas  bells  ringing  in  the  Great  Day.  To  Olga 
they  seemed  to  call  softly : 

"  '  Love  is  the  joy  of  service  so  deep  that  self  is 
forgotten.'  " 


PRINTED  IN  THE   UNITED   STATES   OF  AMERICA 


EARLIER  WORKS  IN  DEMAND 


CAROLINE  ABBOT  STANLEY  Author  of 

■ The  Master  of  the  Oaks 

The  Keeper  of  the  Vineyard 

A  Tale  of  the  Ozarks.    Illustrated,  $1.25  net. 

"When  the  Revella  publish  a  novel  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion as  to  its  high  moral  tone.  This  is  an  unusual  story,  in 
which  a  young  woman  assumes  the  burden  of  the  support 
of  a  family  and  succeeds  in  her  purpose.  The  story  takes 
us  to  the  Ozarks  and  to  the  Vineyards,  and  charms  us  by 
the  descriptions  of  life  near  the  heart  of  nature." — Watchman 
Examiner. 

NORMAN  HINSDALE  PITMAN 

The  Lady  Eled: 

A  Chinese  Romance.  Illustrated  by  Chinese  artists. 
i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

"A  story  that  depicts,  in  all  its  fascination,  the  old  China — 
Something  of  the  knowledge  of  what  may  be  lies  at  the  heart 
of  this  Chinese  romance — the  story  of  a  girl  who  rebelled 
against  an  'arranged'  marriage,  and  of  the  young  man  she 
loved.  A  romance  with  all  the  plot,  situation  and  charm  of 
a  modern  popular  love-story  makes  the  book  irresistible." — 
Norma  Bright  Carson,  Editor  of  Book  News. 

RICHARD  S.  HOLMES 

Bradford  Horton:  Man 

A  novel.     i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

"This  story  is  one  of  intense  interest,  combining  sentiment, 
pathos,  love,  humor  and  high  aims  and  purposes.  It  is  not 
a  sermon.  It  is  just  what  it  claims  to  be,  "a  novel."  But 
he  who  reads  it  will  find  in  it  an  inspiration  to  higher  living. 
It  is  fascinating  in  its_  presentation  of  its  distinctly  human 
characters." — Presbyterian  of  the  South. 

MARIETTA  HOLLEY  {josiah  Allen's  Wife) 

Samantha  on  the  Woman  Question 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

"This  is  the  book  we  have  been  waiting  for.  What  Sa- 
mantha doesn't  know,  isn't  worth  knowing — will  throw  a 
little  humor  on  the  situation  which  is  becoming  too  intense. 
We  hope  it  may  have  a  wide  circulation  in  England,  for  Sa- 
mantha who  believes  in  suffrage,  does  not  believe  in  dynamite, 
gunpowder  and  mobs." — Examiner. 

CHARLES  H.    I.ERRIGO 

Doc  Williams 

A  Tale  of  the  Middle  West.    Illustrated,  net  $1.25. 

"The  homely  humor  of  the  old  doctor  and  his  childlike 
faith  in  'the  cure'  is  so  intensely  human  that  he  captures  the 
sympathy  of  the  layman  at  once — a  sympathy  that  becomes 
the  deepest  sort  of  interest." — Topcka  Capital. 


FICTION— OUT-DOOR  LIFE— JUVENILE 


LATHAN  A.  CRANDALL 

Days  in  the  Open 

A  Fisherman's  Answer  to  the  Red  God's  Call. 
Decorations  by  Louis  Rhead.     Illustrated,  net  $1.50. 

Here  is  a  book  which  has  about  it  something  of  old  Izaak 
Walton,  of  Richard  Jefferies,  of  Henry  van  Dyke.  But  there 
is  a  very  much  more  of  the  author  himself;  for  he  is  of 
that  diverting  and  gallant  company  who  love  to  chant  the 
praises  of  moor  and  mead,  of  silver  stream,  of  the  open 
road.  Mr.  Crandall  is  an  enthusiastic  angler  and  his  book  is 
the  record  of  a  man  out  on  his  peaceful  adventures,  whip- 
ping winsome  waters  and  treading  fresh,  sweet  earth.  There 
is  a  positive  fascination  about  what  he  writes,  too,  which  if  it 
does  not,  like  a  Pied  Piper,  lure  a  man  out  of  the  city  gate, 
will,  at  least,  give  him  to  long  to  be  awa'  in  the  core  of 
Nature's  heart. 

REV.  ALBERT  H.  PLUMB 

When  Mayflowers  Blossom 

A  Romance  of  Plymouth's  First  Years.    8vo,  net  $1.50. 

Rev.  William  Allen  Knight,  Litt.D.,  author  of  "The  Song 
of  Our  Syrian  Guest,"  says:  "  'When  Mayflowers  Blossom' 
is  a  love  story  told  in  a  big,  brainy  way.  It  is  Homeric  in  its 
leisureliness,  its  grave  mind-play  on  a  historic  tradition,  its 
occasional  deft  pictures  in  words.  For  example,  read  the 
ohapter,  'Tempest  on  the  Deep,'  and  note  that  'next  morn- 
ing the  sun  rose  murky  red  like  a  wounded  warrior  in  flow- 
ing blood  lifting  himself  from  a  battle  field.'  Minds  fond  of 
old-time  meatiness  in  writing  will  find  this  book  worthy  of 
their  attention." 

DILLON    WALLACE      Author  of" The  Lure  of the  Labrador 
■  I  ( 'ild"  and  " 'Ungava  Bob" 

The  Gaunt  Gray  Wolf 

Illustrated.     i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

A  rattling  new  story  by  the  man  who  survived  the  perils 
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sulted in  the  death  of  Leonidas  Hubbard,  Jr.  "Ungava 
Bob"  here  makes  a  welcome  reappearance,  and  through  a 
series  of  thrilling  adventures  both  he  and  his  companion, 
Shad  Trowbridge,  face  danger^  and  hardship  with  the  stiff 
upper  lip  of  "gentlemen  unafraid." 

REV.    S.  J.  RE  ID 

Young  People's  Pilgrim's  Progress 

With  Exposition.     Illustrated,  net  $1.00. 

"The  young  people  of  former  generations  read  Bunyan's 
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on  it,  has  succeeded  in  producing  a  'new  version'  of  the 
classic  that  will  be  understood  and  appreciated  by  everyone. 
The  older  people  will  enjoy  it  and  profit  by  it  as  much 
as  the  younger  people." — Waichman-Examiner. 


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